


A Residual Haunting

by ChainedYetAdrift



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Asylum
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2017-12-25 16:10:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChainedYetAdrift/pseuds/ChainedYetAdrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Traumatic experiences always leave their imprint, coming back to haunt us in such a way that it ensures we will never forget.  A/U. (Rated explicit for later chapters)</p><p>*Currently being revamped*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I own nothing…except my twisted imagination.

A/N: This fic is not meant to offend anyone or cause some outrageous revolt. It is simply another product of three options: too much smutty imagination and too much time on my hands to help it thrive.

(update 2017: I am in the process of revamping this story and each of my others in the hopes of completing it soon. A special thank you to those who have thoroughly enjoyed this fic! I appreciate your comments. They're actually what got my off my ass to do something about them. <3)

 

 

 

A Residual Haunting

Chapter One

 

 

Amongst a chorus of incoherent mumbling of the many broken minds filling the common room, there was just one abandoned soul sitting alone in silence. Lost to the world. _Forgotten_. By the window, curled in a dusty and tattered antique chair, the reporter blended like a meaningless backdrop. She stared blankly through the holes in the chicken wire covering the window at the setting sun at her flank lazily tucking itself in behind the distant tree line.

It has been two months since she managed to turn in the confession tape that she and Kit managed to procure thanks to the help of one her colleagues from the Column that got wind of her confinement and came out on visitation. At last, someone on the outside that she knew, without a doubt, she could trust. If it wasn’t for her, Oliver Thredson would still be on the loose, haunting her until she took her last breath. Anyone else with a shred of decency had either failed miserably, fallen prey to Briarcliff’s horrors, or just didn’t give a damn.

Once, the journalist made the mistake of putting her faith in Sister Jude, who _promised_ to get her out before it was too late, before her mind was taken. The Monsignor however, was expeditious in his efforts to make sure no one would ever get wind of nightmarish nature lying within the mortar of this corrupted torture palace. A little too much juice during shock therapy and Jude was deduced to a shred of her former self, falling apart like wet sand between the Monsignor’s fingers. And Kit Walker? Well, he was released of his wrongful accusations when the real Bloody Face was revealed. Unfortunately, Kit wasn't able to return the gesture to his dear friend. Wendy's initial decision to lock her away had been the cosmic joke to end all cosmic jokes, and all it took was the swipe of a ballpoint pen. As long as her sexual orientation is ‘ _sick’_ enough to lock her up here—where the sane were driven mad by the crazy until couldn't tell who was who anymore—then she could and _would_ be stuck here. Forever.  Forever is a long time when you have nothing but time left. With Kit on the outside, they would never be able to bring down this hell hole as separate individuals but Lana, at least, took comfort in the fact that they were able to get that sociopath strapped in that electric chair if it was the last thing either of them would ever do.

Last she read in the newspaper, Thredson had gone to court. Days, weeks, and months passed by and every day, the reporter waited anxiously for news of his conviction _and_ the Tribune’s headline that would showcase the moment he fried.

"Lana,” a voice called out, the gentle weight of a palm on her shoulder. Blinking, Lana emerged from the fog and craned her head to see Carl, the orderly. He was always so crisp and clean in a starched white uniform: the unused chess piece that didn’t belong in the fifty-year old box. He extended a rolled up newspaper for her to take.

"I called ya’ name three times. Don’t tell me you’re becoming like the rest of ‘ese nut jobs around here,” he joked, his eyes wandering across the room to the mindless drifters making their rounds. “I told ya’ how difficult it is for me to sneak this to ya so ya gotta be a little more alert or else the charity stops, ya’ hear me?”

She took it quickly like a squirrel snatching a nut, tucking it safely into the flaps of her red pullover.

“I've been holdin’ it since this morning, but it's been a crazy around here. More ‘an usual.”

“What’s happening,” she asked quietly, glancing about.

“Everyone’s been busy preparing for our newest ‘ _family member’_ comin’ today,” he responded as another orderly called his name, urging him to hurry up. Offering her a wink, he moved to walk away and paused, leaning down to speak into the shell of her ear. “Word of advice, go back to ya’ cell…and stay there. You hear me?”

Confusion furrowed her brow, questioning why he would suggest such a thing. He knew her cell is the last place she ever wanted to be and before she could question him, he was off as quickly and quietly as he had emerged. Still, she uttered a soft “thank you.”

Being trapped within these walls day in and day out is detestable enough as it is, but stuck inside an even tinier cell was something she refused to tolerate. At first, she entertained Carl’s irrational suggestion but thought better of it. Most of the original staff are either locked up or dead now. Carl is one the soul survivor of this place, one of the last decent people left. She couldn't imagine why a new inmate would cause such a frenzy. It wasn't like the asylum isn’t home to some of the most horrifying monsters in town already. What's the one more? Turning away from prying eyes, she quickly retrieved the newspaper from the flaps of her sweater, untying the thread knot and unrolling it to the front headline. The moment she was waiting so anxiously for was is close around the corner she could feel it as real as the icy chill of the air creeping up her back. Any day now, Oliver is going to get what was a long time coming and she would celebrate the day with a batch of cookies made fresh in the bakery. Smiling softly at the thought, she smoothed out the rolled folds of the newspaper, already mentally envisioning hanging that makeshift death certificate on the wall of her grimy cell.

Greedily, her eyes scanned the headline in anticipation but an uneventful headline of some huge robbery downtown left her bereft. Slowly, she stood up from the seat, the momentary light in her eyes of excitement and wonder like some child on Christmas morning fizzled out. She shuffled her way towards the common room's double doors. They had been locked for the later half of the day and by this time she had heard the jukebox cycle through all of its records twice now. One more round of 'I Got You Babe' by Donnie and Cher and she would gladly beg for another session of shock therapy to forget.

Wading through the zombie-like scattering of patients, she felt a hard object collide against her side, sending her tumbling to the floor and smacking her head against the cement. Wincing Lana, looked up to find the culprit of her attack sitting in a wheelchair. It was a young man, grinning from ear to ear, his shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. He cackles at her then kicked off with his legs, howling as he zipped across the floor, having the time of his life.

Pulling herself up from the floor, she rubbed the bruising flesh of her scalp and frowned to realize a bump would form. Continuing to rub the gradually swelling knot, the opening of the double doors caught her attention, halting her steps entirely when a tall figure was pushed through.

A sharp intake of breath, prepared to choke her throat dry, she stared in disbelief as a familiar pair of thick brooding eyebrows came into focus. His hair, no longer shining with pomade, lay loose against his scalp. Despite the abrupt jarring of his person, he collects himself: as languid and graceful and as catlike as she remembered. Oh yes, she would _never_ forget the characteristics of the man who continued to haunt her dreams: Oliver Thredson. Shutting her eyes tightly, she back peddled, shaking her head in an attempt to shake off what must be a dream. She was still in her cell, curled atop that lumpy rotting mattress. How hard did she hit her head?

Her eyes darted back to the common room doors, widening to see his looming figure still lingering—tall, dark, and prominent as a radiation shadow burned into a wall. She clutched the newspaper in her fingers tightly, watching his dark eyes drift slowly across the common room. Looking to the floor where she fell, she hoped she would see her body there, unconscious. Surely, this is an outer body experience. It has to be!

Maybe Carl was right. Was she really going crazy?

But her body isn’t sprawled over the floor, just plain cement. Cautiously, she crept closer, glancing at the patients to see if anyone else noticed him. In reality, half of these people couldn’t even tell their own reflection from the next.

It was him and yet it wasn’t. He was… _different_. His temples had been shaved, the dark shadow of hair blotched pink with what she knew could only be one thing: a dose of electroshock. He was wearing the standard baby blue uniform of male inmates and a thin black pull over sweater, hanging open in the front. With his hands tucked away in the pullover’s pockets, that monster was looking at her as though he was confused. Lost, even. And no matter how many times she blinked, his figure was still there. Watching her watching him and finally, he smiled.

That smile held none of the malevolence she had become accustomed to. It was the kind of smile he wore while she sat chained in his basement: impish, child-like, and sincere yet terrifyingly unapologetic in the rationalization of his behavior.

“No, no…you’re just hallucinating,” she told herself aloud, voice hoarse, eyes stinging with water. “You need to lie down. Go back…to your cell.”

That look of recognition and the slowly building smirk on Thredson’s bow-shaped lips made the journalist take a step back. Quickly, the reporter scuffled backward, bumping and nearly tumbling over a nearby chair. The loud and abrupt sound of its wooden legs scraping against the cement floor drew attention to her panic. 

 _'He's not real!_ ’ her mind screamed before verbally yelling over her shoulder, “You’re not real! You’re in prison!”

Without watching where she was going, Lana’s scrambling knocked over a small tv tray that held a chest board, sending chest pieces scattering across the floor in a spray of red and black. Her heart thunders in her ears, the blood in her veins rushing past her eardrums. The edges of her vision blurred, hot tears spilling down her cheeks when she tripped over a foot stool, tumbling to the floor. The newspaper slid out of her sweater, forgotten in her terror. Several of the asylum’s orderlies and a middle aged nun rushed to restrain her.

“Hey— _hey_! Calm down! What’s the matter with you?”

“—you’ve never behaved this way before!” she heard one of the orderlies yell as he forced her flat to the floor. Straining to see through white-garbed legs and a curtain of black robes, she peered up and saw Oliver lurking just beyond the shoulder of an orderly, watching her spectacle with a quiet intensity.

“Get him away from me. _Get him away from me_!” she all but screamed, thrashing about like a woman gone insane.

“Enough. Get her out of here,” the orderly muttered as the nun prepared a medication cocktail and with a painful prick, administered a sedative into her arm.

The drug’s effects were almost immediate but her eyes never left Thredson’s figure behind them. Wild eyes drooped and the orderlies moved aside as a gurney is brought over. A sense of weightlessness overtook her, smog flooding her brain, lifting her up on top of the gurney and strapped her down beneath heavy straps. As Lana’s eyes sagged, her wrists and ankles pulling weakly at the restraints, Oliver slid easily into the fray, his tall form towering at the orderly’s flank, too busy securing her straps to notice.

“ _Lana_ —you haven’t seen me in over three months and this is how you behave?” she heard him ask, her vision fading into darkness as she listlessly watched the orderly shove him back.

Thredson relented, cooperative for now, and slid his hands into the pockets of his pants, his dark eyes never leaving her as she was wheeled through the double doors and out of sight. Bending down, he plucked the stray newspaper left behind and after brushing the seat of a nearby lounge chair off, he plopped down into darkest corner of the common room.

Pawing around for the half empty pack of cigarettes in his pocket, the retired doctor slid one of the toxic white sticks between his lips and lit it in the shell of his hands. Inhaling deeply of the toxic fumes as if they were his lifeline, he sagged into the chair, crossed his legs at the knee, and unfolded the paper. Flipping it several pages to get to its heart, a small youthful smile played over his lips as he scanned the black and white photograph of himself in chains. Above it, a bold and daring title caught his gaze:

_'Acclaimed Killer Of Women Sentenced To Life Briarcliff.'_

 

=====To be Continued=====


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traumatic experiences always leave their imprint, coming back to haunt us in such a way that it ensures we will never forget. A/U. (Rated explicit for upcoming chapters)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my twisted imagination. 

A/N: This fic is not meant to offend anyone or cause some outrageous revolt. It is simply another product of three options: too much smutty imagination, too much time on my hands to help it thrive. 

Pairing: Oliver Thredson/Lana Winters. 

 

=========

 

Red.

It was everywhere, filling the cell with an incandescent and unnervingly euphoric crimson. Lana shifted, wincing as her back recognized the worn lumpy mattress that gave away its indication that it was hers. Slowly she pushed herself up, her blurred eyes adjusting themselves. She gazed sleepily at the light seeping into her room from the small grate window of her cell door and the opening where her door had been left ajar. Her eyes followed the slanted box of light from the hall to the wall next to her bed as though the cement had been splashed with angry red streaks of blood. 

Groggily, she swung her legs over the bed, letting them dangle over the edge and she gave the light a closer inspection, realizing it was the facilities emergency lights beaming in through the hall. She didn’t remember coming to her cell, nonetheless taking a nap in the middle of the evening. After a few moments, she buried her face in her hands and rubbed her eyes to try to shake off the fog when an unforgettable voice rose from the overwhelming clouds of her brain. 

‘Lana…. You haven’t seen me in over three months and this is how you behave?’

Immediately her eyes widened and she gasped, looking towards the cell door. Thredson…. It must have been just as simple as a nightmare born from the product of too many sedatives. There was no other plausible explanation. The borderline lethal mixture of medication floating around this place would knock any sane person on their ass and send a psychopath drifting happily into the world of their own sick desires. Pushing herself out of bed, Lana lightly stumbled her way up to the cell door in wonder as to why it was open. 

“Hello?” she called out hoarsely. “Helloooo?!”

Silence. It was the only comfort that you desperately desired for day in and day out, but couldn’t grasp no matter how hard you tried was practically deafening to her ears in contrast. From what she could see the sliver of space where her door was open, the halls were empty and the adjacent cell doors were open. The power must have gone out. Curious, she grasped the metal door handle and with a little tug, she watched the door clank loudly and creak on its hinges as she swung it open. The more her mind began to clear, the more familiarity of the situation she now found herself in. Finally it dawned on her when she stepped out into the emptiness of the hall to bathe in the redness of the emergency lights over head. This was exactly like the time she foolishly gave up her own escape attempt to ensure Kit and Grace never made it through the exit doors. But this time, there was no one to stand in her way. No one to prevent her from taking back the life that had been stolen from her. 

Quickly she began to wander down the hall, her eyes glued to that very same door up ahead that was normally locked while the power was still on. This was her chance! Her chance to be free…. The padding of her white shoes grew louder along the cement floor the faster she moved. Her heart sprang to life from its medicated slumber, pumping wildly the closer she came to those double doors. 

When she neared the last cell, she heard what sounded like her name called softly by the only voice that could successfully strike an unbridled fear and freeze her in place. She immediately came to a stop. Swallowing, she slowly turned in the direction of her cell. Her eyes looked around the hall. Unable to discern if she was still hearing things, she clasped the sides of her head, her eyes immediately searching the darkened corners of the hallway where the red light couldn’t reach. What the hell was going on? Why was she suddenly losing it? This was why she needed to get the hell out of here! Refusing to be deterred, she turned back towards the double doors sitting in the shadows just ahead to see that there was actually a heavy set of chains barring the doors shut. Immediately she felt her heart sink like a little kid’s who just dropped a quarter into a wishing well for the first time and realized the harsh realities of life that his wish wasn’t coming true. 

“Lana….” 

Her head whipped back to the cell at her left and her thin brows knit together. With a few careful steps, Lana crept up to the cell door and peered inside the small grate covered window. It was pitch black inside. Her eyes squinted to adjust to the darkness and she couldn’t help wondering if she was actually still dreaming. Hesitantly she eased up on her tiptoes for a better look inside and her fingers slipped through the holes in the metal grate of the viewing window for better leverage. Her heart began to pound again at the thought of Oliver Thredson actually residing inside this cell. When she didn't hear anything, she laughed lightly to herself. She really was going crazy…. Just before she pulled her hand away, she felt the briefest brush of a warm fingertip caress the tip of her pinkie finger and Lana gasped, pulling away from the cell door. Her back slammed against the brick wall behind her. 

"Oh don't be so melodramatic..." said the low baritone of that unmistakable voice echoing along the empty walls of the hall. "I always said we were drawn together like magnets. You thought I was crazy and yet... here you are." 

Lana frowned, her hands beginning to tremble at her sides as the build of tears began to flood her vision. It wasn’t a nightmare… It was something far worse. Her throat worked to bring the words screaming in her mind to her lips. 

"Son of a bitch... You were in jail.” she muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. “I know you were because I saw it in the paper. You… Were in jail! You were supposed to fry…."

"Yes, I'm sure that must be such a disappointment for you." Oliver responded from the darkness within the cell and she felt her blood boil at his hint of underlying sarcasm.

Lana's bottom lip began to tremble as she watched those long thick fingers emerge from the dark and grasp the grate where her fingers had just been. Immediately her brain sought desperately for some form of comfort and she felt herself begin to relax at the fact that unlike the other cell doors, his was still shut which meant it must be locked. Even though he was behind a wall of steel, his presence still frightened her. She couldn't help wondering why he wasn't strapped down to his bed and drugged up during this power outage. As crazy as this place is, it would be insane to let a murderous psychopath wander about freely while the electricity was out. Surely the staff couldn't be that careless....

"Oliver… Just because you're in here, don't think for a second that I won't be watching you." she jeered in response.

"You and I both know you can't watch me forever." he responded in a bored tone.

"Yeah well I've been in here long enough to know how to pull the strings. You come near me and I'll find a way to have you thrown in solitary for a week." she said almost proudly.

"As if I'm a stranger to loneliness." he snorted. “But tell me… What happens when that week is out, Lana?”

She didn’t say anything simply because… he was right. What would she do then? She was stuck here in what seemed like her own personal nightmare that she would never wake up from. A tear slid from her eye and Lana slunk back into the shadows hugging the wall behind her. Her very own monster lurking in darkness of her dreams had come to join her in what was probably the lowest depth of hell. 

"You know, I trusted you once. I told you everything. And what did you do in return? You left me….” he said in calm, quiet tone. “So there isn't anything you could do now that hasn't been done to me already. Don't you get it? We're stuck here... Locked together in hatred. But it doesn’t have to be that way.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked cautiously while edging further back into the darkness.

“We can make the most of a bad situation.” he added and she jumped when she heard the rattle of the metal handle clicking noisily and the heavy cell door creaking open. “We can still have Paris.” 

Her eyes widened and she pressed against the wall as Olivers tall figure emerged and stepped outside the cell. She gave him a quick once over in full realization that what she previously thought was only a figment of her imagination had become a very ugly fact. He was indeed wearing a blue Briarcliff uniform and even that same worn black sweater. Still yet he looked as he always had with his dark round glasses, even though the sides of his head were shaved from the shock therapy.

"You can’t have something that was never there to begin with.” she said and her head twisted from side to side to look up and down the length of the hallway and called out for a guard. 

"Are we pretending that this sanitarium actually still gives a damn?" he said as he closed the distance between them, his fingers reaching out for her. “Because we both know that’s not true.”

He felt her jump slightly under his fingertips when they met with the soft pale skin covering her exposed collarbone. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Lana darted around him, but he grabbed her arm to pull her back against him and in quick retaliation her hand shot up to smack him, but Oliver was quick to grab her wrist. His free hand shot up to grasp her jaw tightly to force her to look up into his eyes as he hurriedly pushed her backward to drag her into his cell. Lana clawed at the doorframe to the cell, but was forced to succumb to his strength when he twirled her around and hugged tightly her against his front then dragged her into the darkness of his cell.

She cried out, wailing in desperation for someone, anyone to come for her. Ignoring her scuffling, Oliver couldn’t resist the smile spreading over his lips. The sensation of feeling her pressed up against him was something he once thought he’d never experience again and yet she was right here. But her cries were interrupting his opportunity to enjoy it and he clamped a hand over her mouth. The arm wrapped around her waist suddenly darted lower and she began to panic when the blue hem of her dress was pulled up. The warmth of his palm was against her stomach and sliding upward along her skin. The sound of keys jingled loudly down the hallway, but Lana's muffled cries remained muted as the jingling grew closer and closer until suddenly the bright beam of a guard's flashlight shone on them both from the hallway and they stopped their scuffling. 

"Alright, that's enough!" said the voice of a male guard. “Why aren’t you two in the common room with everybody else?”

Lana's second strike attempt to Oliver’s face hit its mark and Oliver winced as her hand collided, stunning him enough to release his grip over her mouth. 

The clicking of a second pair of shoes came up behind the guard and they heard a soft gasp followed by the chastising sounds of disapproval from the voice of a familiar nun that Oliver and Lana both recognized all too well. 

"Oliver Thredson... You've only been here a day, but I thought you'd show some signs of improvement after your first treatment."

"Well I must say, Sister Eunice.... There were no holds barred when you gave me the standard Briarcliff welcome. I thought the delousing was bad enough, but the shock therapy so soon? I thought we had an understanding once." Oliver said almost bitterly. 

Mary stepped into the cell and waved Lana over. After a moment’s hesitation, Oliver let Lana slip from his grasp. His dark eyes remained glued to her small retreating form as she quickly darted behind the guard until she was completely out of his sight.

Mary walked over to him, the large key ring of keys at her hip jingling lightly. "No hard feelings. Besides Oliver, you of all people should know the importance of keeping up appearances. How would it make me look if I just let you slide in here unscathed?"

She reached up, resting her arm on his shoulder and brushed her fingertips over the shaved section of hair near his temples. Oliver didn’t say anything. Instead he looked down into her eyes and for a second he saw that same unnervingly orange-tinted pair he originally saw looking back at him when he dealt with the supposedly possessed boy Jed Potter and quickly looked away. 

“Well, in any case, we can’t have you the two of you harassing each other. At least not so soon.” Mary said quietly. 

Lana came out from behind the guard. “Are you crazy? I had no idea he was even here!”

“Is that so? Why would you even come way down here at the end of the hall, nonetheless inside his cell just to have his hand up your dress rather than coming out to the common room with everyone else?” Mary shot back and watched Lana’s eyes lower to the floor. “Peculiar how the two of you despise each other so much and yet you both always wind up in each other’s arms…. In any case, it’s been a long day and I really was in no mood to deal with the both of you right now. But it's not too early for another round of shock treatment to cool you off, Oliver." 

"Only if you're trying to kill me...." Oliver retorted and nudged his head to the side to remove her fingers from his skin. 

"Renowned murderer killed on his first day of serving out his life sentence? Hardly.” the nun snorted and sauntered out of the cell. “Although you’re well aware of the rules against fornication so we’ll figure something out. Bring them both to my office." 

Oliver watched the guard dart into the cell and force him up against the wall. Thick restraining cuffs were tied around his wrists and he glanced out of the cell’s doorway to Lana who was watching. The guard then shoved him forward out of the cell and reached into the belt at his waist to apply the same cuffs to Lana’s wrists. 

Lana averted her gaze. She knew she couldn’t divulge to the nun the real reason as to why she was down here at the end of the hall and decided to just stay quiet. At this point, she was beyond caring about what others thought. That part of her died the moment she came to this place. As they all then proceeded down the hall with Mary in the lead, Lana glanced behind her to Oliver who simply looked down at her and gave her a dark smile. 

 

====To be Continued====

 

A/N: Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traumatic experiences always leave their imprint, coming back to haunt us in such a way that it ensures we will never forget. A/U. (Rated explicit for upcoming chapters).

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my twisted imagination. 

A/N: This fic is not meant to offend anyone or cause some outrageous revolt. It is simply another product of three options: too much smutty imagination, too much time on my hands to help it thrive. 

Pairing: Oliver Thredson/Lana Winters. 

 

========

 

The hallways were pitch black, noiseless, and even a little chilly from the February wind dancing about outside the asylum’s walls as the trio neared the bright candlelit office up ahead. Lana's feet padded quickly behind the nun's steps in effort to keep up as they rounded the corner to Sister Eunice’s office. 

“Hurry up, get inside.” Sister Eunice told the small band of followers behind her, the underlying agitation in her voice evident as she held the door open and watched Lana scurry inside first. 

Oliver stumbled through the door after being pushed aggressively by the guard and collided chest first into Lana's back. The door slammed behind them causing the textured glass within it to shake and Oliver felt Lana’s smaller form startle from the sound. He looked down at her, noticing she hadn't moved away from him despite the fact that they were practically huddled up to one another. Something else was stealing her attention from him and he followed the path of her gaze to see what captivated her so. His dark eyes give her a quick evaluation by studying her unseen from the corner of his eye. Her posture was stiff, her eyes watching Mary’s confident stride over to the wooden armoire next to them, and she didn’t even seem to be aware that the solid object she was leaning back against wasn’t the wall, but rather him. He wondered if she was actually afraid, but the notion seemed preposterous after her typical heroic and aggressive display she put on in his cell. His eyes drifted to Mary in thought as to the types of “discipline” she must be so graciously bestowing upon the inmates in his absence.

“Alright, we all know the both are up to something… Even if your agenda’s may be different. But I do know that what I saw going on in that cell is most certainly not prohibited. So let's just get this over with, shall we?" Mary said, turning back to give them both an awkwardly kindhearted smile in the illumination of the candles brightening the room like false sunlight.

When the nun opened the double doors to the cabinet, Oliver's thick brows knit together at seeing the array of canes hanging from their respective hooks. They were arranged specifically from thinnest to thickest, longest and shortest. He always knew they existed after the talk he had with Kit a while back who couldn't even sit down long enough to talk about his case, but he'd never actually laid eyes on them until now. 

Mary took a moment, her fingers skimming over the canes while pondering in thought as to which she preferred then smiled brightly when she grabbed a long thin one. She spun around on her heel to face them, the tails of her long black habit whirling near her legs with the movement. "I would ask who wants to volunteer first, but where's the spontaneity in that?"

Lana backed up a little more into Oliver as Sister Mary bended the length of the cane in her hands, testing its pliancy before jutting the end out with a hiss as it sliced the air to point at Lana. 

"It’s been a long time so I think we’ll start with you first, Miss Winters." she said and moved to stand by the corner of her desk. 

Oliver could feel Lana beginning to tremble. She was actually afraid and for once, it wasn’t of him. When she finally moved forward, his fingers shot out from the confinement of his wrist cuffs to grip the back of her brown sweater and pull her back to him.

"This is barbaric. I once thought you were such a forward thinker, but it seems you've become just the very thing you despised, Sister Eunice. Or should I call you… Jude?" Oliver said as he slid in front of Lana. "She's trained you well, hasn't she?" 

Lana looked up at him in surprise at first then quickly backed away at the realization that he was in such close proximity. Never in her most terrifying dreams had she ever imagined she’d be locked in a room with not one, but two of the most unspeakable monsters to ever grace this facility. Suddenly the notion of jumping out of the nearest third story window seemed much more appealing.

Mary's eyes narrowed and she walked over to Oliver, bringing the tip of her cane directly up before his face. "What, are we trying to get in Miss Winters good graces now that you’re both in here? You surprise me, Oliver. I never thought you cared." Mary said in a soft mocking tone and tapped the desktop with the tip of her cane as a gesture for him to assume the position. 

"He's not capable of caring for anyone." Lana said in a quiet voice.

"I admit it looked like something else was going on, but she wasn't looking for me. I was waiting for her...." Oliver decidedly confessed. There was going to be a punishment either way and after the ritual protocol of tortures he’d faced today, he wasn’t in the mood for the nun’s games. 

"Really....? I don't know, Miss Winters, he seems to be awfully concerned with covering your tracks. I wonder why….” she told him with obvious irritation and smacked the desk with the cane, the crack resounding loudly through the room. “Bend… over!"

A quiet sigh of aggravation slipped from between Oliver’s lips and he narrowed his eyes before slowly bending down over the desk, resting his head on his chin. Mary brusquely pulled down the elastic band of Oliver's pants to expose his pale naked buttocks and immediately let the first swat fly.

His body jerked over the desk with each swat of the thin cane and no sooner did it leave his skin did he feel the stinging welt left behind in its wake and he grit his teeth to brace himself against the impact. Now that he was on the other side, on the receiving end of the facilities unspeakable tortures, he suddenly felt like he was that little orphaned boy he once was so long ago. After all of these years here he was yet again, huddled among hundreds of others who'd been abandoned, still somehow getting into trouble because he couldn’t control his urges, just to be roughly turned over someone's knee and chastised by a leather crop. Except now he’d traded out the crop for a cane. The years may have changed but the similarity of the situation had not. Part of him wanted to laugh at the irony as a way to mask the pain, but instead he found the buildup of water along his eyelids the only comfort. 

Lana watched, unable to tear her eyes from the scene before her. She’d seen this over a dozen times now and every time it made her cringe and look away. From what she could see, his hands were formed into fists, his knuckles white. His short dark hair had fallen into his eyes with every jerk. But as this was happening to Oliver, she couldn't bring herself to look away. When his head turned in her direction, his face was red and he winced with the swats, but his watery eyes were directly locked with hers. For a moment, she thought she was seeing a side of him she’d never glimpsed before. It wasn’t the horrid monster she’d become accustomed to looking back at her through his round glasses, it was something else entirely. Something she didn’t want to allow herself to try to name, something she’d told herself wasn’t there. She thought this was a moment she would enjoy, a moment that she didn’t know she was dreaming of, but as she stared at the many red marks tanning his hide and the expression on his face, the satisfaction wasn't as pleasing as she thought it should be.

Suddenly the electricity of the building flickered back on with a dull hum and Mary decided to cease fire and looked down at Oliver’s buttocks to admire her handy work. Once satisfied with her job well done, she pulled up the waist band of his blue pants and was careful to take notice of the wincing sound he made as the rough fabric brushed against his sensitive skin.

"Still want to be a hero?" she asked him as she watched him stand to full height. 

Lana watched him ignore the nun and walk slowly over to her direction, looking at her with an expression on his face similar to that of a child in need of comforting after being spanked every which way from Sunday for his disobedience from the other parent. When her expression wasn’t the welcoming one he was falsely hoping for, Oliver went to stand in a distant corner.

“Well Miss Winters, it is getting late so it looks like you’re off the hook… This time.” Sister Eunice said. “Pity. I was looking forward to us spending that quality time together. Although I’m sure now that he’s here, there will plenty of other chances in the future.” 

Both inmates watched, button-lipped as the nun walked to each of them and removed the wrist cuffs, tossing them on her desk. She then moved to the office door and opened it, signaling for them to take their leave and go back into the dark heart of the beast known as the common room. They exited the room and heard it shut behind them as they made their way down the hall, Lana in the lead with Oliver close at her heels. The halls were still quiet and she remained silent, being careful to avoid any discussion of the actions that had just transpired. At this moment, the little space of her cell seemed like a home away from home and she quickened steps to get to it. But as they rounded the corner Oliver, suddenly grabbed her arms and pulled her roughly into an empty storage closet and closed the door. 

“What the hell are you doing?” she said as he pulled her deeper into the closet. 

Her hands felt around in the darkness until the click of the dangling string was heard and the light bulb above their heads came to life, flooding the large room with light. Her eyes widened upon realization that it was the same room she had once left him tied up in all those months ago.

"Lana..." he began, his voice deep almost shaky and she noticed the needy look on his face was still present. “You know everything happens for a reason. Something brought me to you once and after everything that’s happened, it’s brought me to you again. This isn’t just fate anymore. This is something else…”

"I think the shock therapy must be sizzling out what’s left of your brain." she said and moved to side step him, but he was quick to close the distance. He backed her up against the brick wall behind them and pressed his hands to either side of her head to pin her between them. 

“I don’t.” he responded seriously and inched closer, his face a breath away from her own. 

His eyes passed over the soft features of her face and the smooth pinkness of her skin. When Lana turned her head to avert his gaze, Oliver followed her and quickly captured her lips with his own. He sighed, sucking at her lips to savor the soft fullness of them imprisoned between his own. She immediately pushed against his chest and Oliver gave a look of displeasure at the fact that despite their circumstances she still rejected him. He intertwined his fingers with hers and pressed her hands to the wall at either side of her. 

“Stop tortur-!” she began once she was able to free herself of his mouth, but he was quick to silence her with a harsh ‘shhhh’ and pressed himself flush against her front. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you… Not unless you’re asking for that punishment I managed to sweep you out of.” he told her firmly. “And I’m sure the second time it won’t be a fraction of the light one I received.”

Lana stared him down angrily as his fingers found her cheeks. His dark eyes flitted to her lips that had grown puffy from his recently forceful ministrations and he bit his own in apprehension then dove in to recapture his prize. His lips moved over hers almost clumsily and desperate with need yet just as dominating until eventually his tongue found hers. 

The warmth of her body pressed to his sent waves of comfort and satisfaction through him and suddenly the excitement of being skin to skin was almost too much for him. Lana felt his hips grind against her own and that familiar yet unfamiliar hardness that he exposed her to in his basement long ago made itself known. 

The burning of his buttocks became a thing of the past when she made a small noise into his mouth and Oliver felt a surge of delight at how feeble she could become once he’d stripped away the fight. Somewhere in the midst of it all, a large hand found its way into the front of her white panties and regardless of her muffled sound of protest, he plunged two fingers into the tight passage between her thighs. 

Immediately Oliver felt her clasping around them and her own fingers dug into the cloth of his black sweater as he continued to drink from her lips. His fingers moved inside her wet, snug confines in a deft and deep rhythm. Pulling his head back to release her lips, he watched the multitude of expressions on her face bubble to the surface as if he’d thrown a stick of dynamite into a black pond and managed to strike gold. Lana bit her lip as hot waves of pleasure washed through her hips with each caress of his fingers over that sensitive spot buried deep inside. He rested his forehead to hers and leaned over her, almost hypnotized by her reactions and the sudden capsize of her previous mood. The way she was effectively soaking and squeezing his fingers in a pulsating rhythm, the way her hips were beginning to rock over his hand practically made him ache to be inside her. 

Suddenly the sounds of the door knob twisting and voices were heard outside the door behind them. Oliver clamped his free hand over Lana’s mouth and pushed her into a dark corner behind a rickety old wooden shelf shoved against the wall just as what sounded like two orderlies came inside and closed the door. 

"I don’t know what the hell’s going on around here, but since Sister Eunice took over, I haven't had a damn break in months.” 

They two inmates heard the sound of a cigarette being lit and Oliver’s gaze remained locked on Lana’s, her brown eyes filling with fear and yet just as equally dazed as his hand between her legs remained unrelenting in its silent assault and suddenly the two orderlies vanished from her mind.

"I hear ya. This place is gettin' more crowded every month. Soon we’re gonna be overrun.”

Oliver could feel Lana’s almost labored breath against his chest and he slid a free hand under her dress, dragging the warmth of his palm up the curve of her rump and the soft sway of her hip until he found the pebbled nipple he was aiming for. Her thighs tightened around his hand the moment he plucked and rolled that sensitive little nub between his thumb and forefinger. Her back arched as those long, thick fingers drove into her until her eyes rolled behind her eyelids as she suddenly came.

"Quietly...." he whispered into her ear, the movement of his fingers slowing while carefully watching every minute of seeing her become lost to her own forbidden desires. 

"Alright let’s go before someone finds out were missing." 

The two inmates listened quietly as the orderlies exited and closed the door behind them, unbeknownst to the lewd behavior occurring right under their noses. Slowly Oliver removed his fingers, but not before gently caressing that now swollen bud at the apex of her thighs with his wet middle finger. Lana slumped against the shelf for a moment in search of support on her seemingly wobbly legs. She didn’t say anything and avoided his intense gaze as if it would turn her to stone if she dared to look. Finally she righted her brown sweater and pulled her dress back down into place. Oliver watched her drift quickly towards the exit and stopped in front of it, staring ahead at the rickety storage door in front of her. 

"This changes nothing today...." she told him in a quiet voice from where she stood.

"Don't worry, we have all the time in the world.” he retorted back, his own lust still latent in his voice. 

Lana turned to see him looking at her with a dark expression as he sucked away her juices from his fingers and she reached up, clicking the light switch off then bolted out of the storage door to leave him behind in the darkness.

 

====To Be Continued====

 

A/N: Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traumatic experiences always leave their imprint, coming back to haunt us in such a way that it ensures we will never forget. A/U. (Rated explicit for upcoming chapters)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my twisted imagination.  
A/N: This fic is not meant to offend anyone or cause some outrageous revolt. It is simply another product of three options: too much smutty imagination, too much time on my hands to help it thrive.  
Pairing: Oliver Thredson/Lana Winters. 

++++ 

Since Oliver’s arrival, the days seemed to drift by for Lana unnoticed like a stranger passing in the background. She spent a majority of her time occupying her cell when she could. Anything to keep a solid object between her and the man she so vehemently despised. Lately she only saw him just before lockdown at night, passing by her cell on his way to his own. Once the call for lights out was heard and the inmates were rushed into their cells was when the night long torturing was its worst.

During the day the halls were filled with the hollowed out screams and wails of the inmates with no point of their origin to be found, almost as if they the sounds came from within the walls of the asylum themselves. But at night, the deafening silence that was left behind was a haunting, chilling. 

As Lana lay in her bunk alone in the dark, the sounds around the building were amplified against the brick lining the walls. It was then that she swore she could hear the quiet sound of Oliver’s voice and her name bouncing off the walls, preventing her from sleeping like a haunting whisper that threatened to follow her into her dreams. 

Sleep was hard to come by those nights. Whenever she finally closed her eyes to hover between that fine line of sleep and wakefulness, the memory of his long fingers exploring the sensitive passage between her thighs caused her to start and the promise of sleep disappeared further and further from her grasp. As she lay still atop the uncomfortable mattress with a restless mind, the emotional shock and humiliation she’d succumbed to were there to keep her company, taunting her throughout the long hours of the night in reminder of the way she found release from those same hands in that storage closet that day. The restless thoughts tormented her over and over, often times in the sound of Wendy’s own voice because they were the same fingers that were responsible for dismembering her lost love and stripping his other victims skin from her hide like an exuberant taxidermist on his best day. 

After what seemed like endless nights of torment, Lana awoke the next day to discover that the staff had actually moved Oliver from the cell he occupied at the end of her hall to one of the private cells around the corner in the men’s ward. She couldn't believe how thankful she was when she discovered through bit of eavesdropping on the gossiping nun’s in the laundry room that he was only there temporarily until they’d found space for him. 

For the first time since she’d been in here, things were turning out in her favor. The staff had been keeping Oliver very “occupied” as of late. They were riding him hard, keeping him under constant forms of evaluation and various methods of treatment now that they had their hands on the real Bloody Face. During the trial, Kit Walker divulged the details of his treatment while he was imprisoned within Briarcliff and he actually managed to create a little bit of an uproar by going public with it, of course not without her help whenever she could offer it. The staff was busier than ever now in their efforts to keep up appearances and prove that the facility could successfully provide treatment for its patients. It was either that or face possible shut down. 

Lana on the other hand couldn’t have been more disgusted. She knew it was only a matter of time that once the heat died down, they’d be back to their old horrific tactics of mistreatment through blindly misguided teachings under the cloak of the Lord.

 

The sun rose slowly, illuminating her cell and warming the cold walls outside with natural sunlight that none of the facilities inhabitants would ever feel on their skin. When the door to Lana's cell opened followed by the clicking of the other cells in the hall, she climbed out of bed and pushed the door shut again as she always did to wait for another hour because it was 8:00am which meant two things: it was time for breakfast and Oliver was loose. 

When the time arose, she finally slipped out of her cell, wandering down the hallways as it was almost time for kitchen duty to clean up this morning’s mess, the only time when she could be left alone and in peace. As she turned the corner, Lana overheard the sound of voices, one in particular that said her name. Immediately she came to a stop, her heart beginning to race and she wondered if the night was now haunting her during the day. As she listened closely, she realized it was coming from one of the closed offices and after taking a careful glance up and down the hall to ensure it was empty, she stalked up to the door and perched against it to listen.

 

“Yes, Oliver… Miss. Winters. The staff alerted to me the fact that this very same woman you kept in your basement is here in this same facility. How they've managed such a travesty is beyond me and out of my control. She’s not my patient and I can’t gain access to her file, but Sister Eunice tells me it’s been a struggle keeping you two separated. From what I’ve discovered in your file, she was the last of your victims and in fact, she was a patient of yours at one point.”

Oliver was quiet, his arms shifting within the confines of the straitjacket he wore in order to get more comfortable. Offering up a small smile, his eyes wandered over the office and noticed the security guard that brought him was now perched in the corner, “In this very same office.”

“You know, each and every one of your patients were counting on you to help them, including Miss. Winters.” the psychiatrist across the desk stated while scanning over the scattered patient files all over her desk. “But you blurred the lines of ethical boundaries between doctor/patient in order to satisfy your own needs.”

“How very observant of you…” he said in a calm, quiet voice and after a moment, he gave the doctor a dark look. “And I'm supposed to count on you?” 

The doctor looked up from the papers and clasped her hands atop the desk. “Yes, I’d like to think so.”

With a light chuckle, he leaned back in the small wooden chair. “I've sat here for the past two hours and all you’ve done is tell me what you think is wrong with me based on what you've read in my file. And yet, you haven't even established the basic principle of developing a solid profile based on your own interpretations provided through talk therapy.” 

The doctor sighed and Oliver continued, “You can't understand a mind not of your own without walking through it.... unless you're uncomfortable with what you might find. And if so, may I suggest you’re probably in the wrong profession.”

This was the fifth psychiatrist that had been brought in to see him, the others having disappeared after either not being able to withstand the harsh conditions of the asylum or the fact that he’d simply refused to speak with any of them. And this doctor was proving yet again that he could practice circles around her and still manage to provide some form of development after only the second session. Of course it wasn’t a competition after all seeing as he no longer possessed his license, but the challenge kept his mind occupied throughout the long days such as this one. 

"From what I’ve seen, you can't even accept the fact that you'll never force the woman you're after in the common room to love you for who you are. What makes you think your interpretations of what you’ve fostered yourself into believing to bring you normalcy will somehow change my mind?” the doctor asked directly.

“You're not discussing anything that I haven’t already figured out. And if I wanted to talk to a therapist, I would remain in my cell and talk to myself.” he responded flatly. 

“That may be so, but I do know this… You've spent your entire life trying to better understand this affliction of yours, to help yourself and supposedly help others and yet here you are on the opposite side of this desk. So whether you like it or not, you need my help more than you think.” the doctor said matter-of-factly.

Oliver stared across the table at the woman before him, her long red hair and starched black suit, sitting where he once used to sit, living the normal life he’d always tried so hard to possess. But from the moment he began planning to take Donna Burton’s life, his own life had been constantly slipping through his fingers like the grains of sand in a sand timer until it was too late to turn it back. And right now, he wanted nothing more than to flip this desk in a rage for everything that he wished he could’ve been and what he could’ve done with his life. And the last thing he wanted to do was sit here discussing the cosmic joke of his life as if he hadn’t been living it for the past thirty five years.

After a moment, Oliver’s eyes became glassy and he lowered them to the floor between his legs before pulling himself together. Deciding to divert the conversation, he spoke, “It’s not easy taking someone’s life, you know?”

“Of course not, the emotional weight and guilt is overwhelming.”

“No, the physical act. The body is strong and resilient, but each body is vastly different. You have to find the best tactic of breaking it down piece by piece without destroying the most important element you want to salvage….” he clarified, glaring directly into the doctors eyes across from him. “You know, it took me six years to build up the nerve to skin Donna alive. Alison, three months. And eventually just a few weeks after Lana betrayed me. It was as if the flood gates had opened with no possibility of ever sealing them again.”

"Oliver…” the doctor interrupted. “I’d prefer to stay on task seeing as we don’t have much time left. What I'd like to do is spend this time talking about your mother. Your real mother.” 

His glazed brown eyes flitted back to the psychiatrist, her voice pulling him from the darkened depths of his mind. "I never knew her, it’s as simple as that." he said, his tone lingering along the lines of boredom.

“Yes, but each of these victim’s all have similarities. Fair skin, auburn hair, and a slender build. I understand you never knew her, but did you find information on her, a picture perhaps?”she asked.

His gaze grew dark, vacant as though he was mentally escaping the questions, but in reality his mind was wrapped around the documentation he managed to obtain from the local hospital where he was born and the city’s public records. That was one of the few perks of working for the state. It was as if he had the keys to the castle. There were only a few women who had given birth to a baby boy on the day he was born and after several attempts to weed out the non matches based on appearance, he managed to find one that closely fit like none other. He was never sure if she was truly his mother when he stumbled over her picture within the records archives from the late 1920's. She didn’t share the same last name, possibly unwed, but she no longer resided within the state and apparently had moved away shortly after giving birth. The picture of that woman was the closest he'd come to applying a face to the blank one he carried with him all those years. And since then, she was the vision that was tacked to the wall of his mind. 

"Yes….” he finally responded.

"What I would like for you to do is to practice a method of disassociation with Miss. Winters and the woman you found in that picture. I want you to begin replacing that image with that of your real mother.”

Immediately his dark eyebrows twisted in irritation. “Obviously you must understand that disassociation without a cognitive replacement that possesses a justifiable standing within the patient’s psyche would defeat said purpose. So why would I do that, doctor? Lana has been the one and has done more for me in that short time we were together than my real mother has ever done in her lifetime, even if it was in jest…. The very idea is vexatious and unwarranted at best.”

“Will you promise to give a try?” the doctor asked in a firm tone, standing up from behind her desk. When he still didn’t respond, she pressed him again. “Or we could continue with your most recent method of treatment via the use of electroshock. It’s not exactly a method I advocate as humane, but it can continue.”

His mouth opened to form another argument and suddenly he began to recall his first experience under the electrodes. As he lay strapped down to a bed that was bolted to the floor, he stared up into the eyes of Sister Eunice silently hoping that he would go into cardiac arrest and finally be free of this life. When the shrill pierce of electricity whirred through the electrodes, the muscle contractions shook all the way down into his his bones after the sharp jolt flowed through his body with only a rubber guard between his teeth to prevent them from shattering. The crackling sound that lingered in the air once it was over danced between his ears followed by the sensation of the nun’s fingers smoothing his damp hair away from his forehead. It’s been several days and finally the trembling in his hands was beginning to completely subside…. 

Oliver let out a heavy sigh. By this time, he had grown tired of this conversation an hour ago and was ready for a change of scenery. “Yes.” he muttered. 

She gave him a small smile and walked around the desk to help him out of the chair since the straitjacket left limited mobility for balance. The guard moved forward and assisted in removing the jacket. “We’ll meet here again in two days and I’ll be checking with the staff on your progress and hopefully absence from Miss. Winter’s sight.”

 

When the door swung open and Oliver was ushered outside, Lana jumped. The door slammed shut behind him and he paused in his step at seeing her there. He gave her a small smile at the realization that she had been eavesdropping. Quickly she walked away.

“Wait! I need to talk to you.” he called after, his hand shooting out to grab her by the arm. 

“Don’t you dare touch me.” she said, pulling out of his grasp and his fingers wound into her red sweater. 

“Just… listen.” he almost growled, jerking hard at her as the sound of the stitching in her sweater came loose.

“To what? More of your lies? Am I supposed to believe what that therapist told you will work and that you’re suddenly going to transform into some perfect model of integrity?” Lana spat, pushing against his chest to shrug off his attempts at pulling her closer to him. “I always said you headshrinkers are hypocrites. You’re a monster and so is she if she thinks this little experiment of hers is going to work.”

Oliver stuffed his hands in the pockets of his black sweater and leaned back against the wall. "As much as I hate to admit, I agree with you for once because you’ve finally realized that this… is destiny." he commented, his eyes wandering over her skin from behind the lens of his glasses. 

Even now as she stood before him, angry and for the most part borderline irate, he longed to be reminded of what it was like to feel her smaller frame against him again. Or the way the warm, wet passage between her legs squeezed his fingers so tightly the moment she found release in that storage closet. 

Lana shook her head, a small smile of disbelief spreading across her face at his statement. “You deserve every amount of punishment you receive in here, Oliver.... And still I find it insufficient.”

Brushing off her comment, Oliver shrugged. “In truth my level of trust with you is very miniscule at best... But I believe with the appropriate amount of therapy, all isn’t lost. I’m still the same man you came to know and requested help from in that very same office there.”

“You’re insane. You may have escaped the electric chair, but the shock therapy will come back for you. And soon… you’ll be a burned out shell just like Sister Jude.”

“Is this the part where you try to break me?” he said, his low tone hinting at his aggravation. “When are you going to realize that you can't break something that's already broken? We’re in here together which means the very thing that happens to me, could very well happen to you. But what makes you and I different is that unlike you, I’ve got nothing left to lose. So your threats hold about as much appeal as those lackadaisical cooking recipes you used to publish in that local paper of yours.”

Lana’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t have time for this. I’ve got kitchen duty tonight and if you remember correctly, I don’t think you want to be around me after knife count. Besides, I’d rather die than stand here and give you another minute of my life.” 

She stalked away from Oliver, her white tennis padding quickly over the cement floor. He knew she could feel his eyes on her as she made her way down the hall.

“There’s nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be…” he called after her and once she was out of earshot he whispered under his breath, “And that’s with me.”

Lana was expecting him to be at her heels, but to her surprise when she rounded the corner he was nowhere to be found. Was that psychiatrist right in concocting a plan to keep them apart and that he may have been playing mind games with her? Or could it be that what she said would actually ward him off for a little while? A tiny smile spread over her face at the thought that perhaps it was just the trigger to keep him at bay. 

 

The hours seemed to go on like days and eventually after kitchen duty was complete, Lana found herself exhausted and could only think of the lumpy mattress waiting for her in her cell. Never had she thought in a million years that after all of her efforts to chase her dreams, she would end up washing the dishes of the insane. Hanging up her apron, she quietly made her way back to her cell. It was the end of the night and a majority of the inmates had already made their way into their cells for lockdown. She didn’t see Oliver again since she’d left him in the hallway earlier that day. He didn’t even come down when dinner was served in the dining hall. Sluggishly, she crept along the dark hall of cell doors lining the walls until she stumbled across the one that belonged to her. With her eyes glued to the floor, she removed her sweater and shoes and pulled off the blue dress that was all but stuck to her skin as thought it were a part of her nowadays. Climbing into bed, Lana watched as the door to her cell was locked for the night along with all the others. 

As the moonlight from the window behind her bed shone on the rusted cell door, Lana’s eyes widened when what appeared to be large black lettering scrawled across the metal caught her eye. 

‘I see you.’

She gasped, her eyes searching the dark as a glint of familiar light reflected off a pair of glasses in the blackened corner adjacent her bed and she watched in horror as the figure who had been so blessedly absent, made itself known. 

“I was beginning to think you’d never show up…” Oliver whispered. “Do you know how much effort it takes to keep a bed disguised as if I’ve been asleep all evening just so that I can have this time here… With you?” 

 

====To be continued!=====

 

A/N: This has been a long time between updates! I’ve been ridiculously busy, but I’m finally back to finish what I’ve started. Including work on my other fics too. *stretches fingers* It feels good to be back….


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traumatic experiences always leave their imprint, coming back to haunt us in such a way that it ensures we will never forget. A/U. (Rated explicit for upcoming chapters)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my twisted imagination. 

A/N: This fic is not meant to offend anyone or cause some outrageous revolt. It is simply another product of three options: too much smutty imagination, too much time on my hands to help it thrive. 

Pairing: Oliver Thredson/Lana Winters. 

 

 

=========

 

Bolting upright, Lana scrambled out of bed and flattened herself in a corner like a child as if the monster in her closet had emerged to snatch her away in her sleep. In the back of her mind, she realized he must be enjoying finding new ways to terrify her, to convince her that no place was safe, not even her own cell. And it was working because even now at thirty-three years old, one darkened room was all it took and suddenly she felt like she was four again and still afraid of the dark.

"Hellooo! I need help in here!" she called out, the hoarseness of her voice a key indication of her continued exhaustion since Oliver's arrival. “Somebody… Please!”

The sound of another inmate’s voice called out from a few cells down, mocking her exact same cries for help over and over again like an eerily slurred mantra. Oliver stepped calmly into the dim moonlight and stood at the foot of her bed, his hands behind his back while listening patiently for the sounds of no one coming down the hall. 

"Looks like it’s just me and youu…” he said in a soft monotone voice, the last word dragging off his tongue. The tiniest smile tugged at the corners of his bow shaped lips. “Whether it’s a true cry for help or the cries of a deranged patient, you would think the night security would have a sense of urgency. But typically that would involve some level of caring.” 

Pressing herself against the cold brick of the wall behind her back, Lana mentally steeled herself against the possibilities of what horrific ideas were crawling around inside Oliver’s mind. 

With a trembling lip, she finally spoke up, "What happened to your therapy? You seem awfully eager to go back to shock therapy because don’t think for a second that your useless doctor won’t find out about this.” 

After a nonchalant shrug, he responded, "I never expected her to understand. That’s the problem with the psychiatrists visiting this facility lately. Too textbook… Frankly she reminds me of Alice in Wonderland. I keep hoping that she’ll tumble into the rabbit hole of my mind, but something is stopping her. Perhaps she’s afraid of getting lost because well… Not everyone has a mind like mine.” 

“Then I commend her desires to maintain her sanity.” Lana said flatly. 

Oliver squinted slightly to try to make out her small form in the darkened corner across from him. Inwardly he was hoping she might come out so he could see the way the moonlight played over her naked skin like he’d always imagined while alone in his cell at night, but never had the chance to see. 

“In any case…” he continued, “My inexperienced young doctor is incorrect. That woman I found years ago, she may have given birth to me, but she's not my mother. Not when you and I have such a lasting history that far surpasses the curse she so gratefully departed me with the day she gave me this life." 

Seeing his eyes wander over her, Lana suddenly wrapped her arms around herself to cover her naked chest, forgetting that she’d discarded her clothing for bed. Tiptoeing a few inches out of the corner, her eyes searched the floor desperately for her discarded dress and she swallowed hard when one of Oliver’s hands emerged from behind his back and held up the small blue garment for her to see. Quickly she pressed back into the corner and Oliver knew she must have realized the exact moment he had emerged from the shadows and stood directly behind her when the door to her cell was closed. He gave her a knowing look as he tossed the dress across the room and he watched her shiver, probably at the thought of how close, so very close to her he must have been. It had taken all of his will not to reach out and run his fingers over the softness of her skin as she stood in front of him, unbeknownst to his presence. But instead he simply settled with quietly snatching the cloth up the moment it fell from her hands and eased back into the shadows of where he came.

“You know, she even diagnosed me with an Oedipus complex.” he said a little saddened, his dark eyes lowering to the tattered green blanket atop Lana’s bed, his fingers plucking at the thin material idly. “But why should that make my own needs any different from you or anyone else? We're all the same underneath the aggressive, competitive, and selfish people that we are… As part of humanity, it’s inherent that we’re burdened with the human condition and the desire to feel wanted, secure, and to be... loved. The issue with my mother is only a piece of the broken puzzle."

“Don't you dare try implying that you and I are anything remotely alike. As I’ve said before, you’re not capable of loving anyone and you sure as hell don't deserve it.” she blurted back angrily, ending the reminiscent tangent of the doctor he used to be.

Oliver looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his glasses and his face fell at her continued rejection. As always she was listening, but never truly understanding. Bringing his other hand from behind his back, he decided to reveal the most vital ingredient of his plans tonight that would hopefully squelch her defiance. Lana's eyes dropped to see him holding a pair of one of the orderlies white restraining cuffs that he must have snatched when they weren't looking. 

The screech of the alarm in her mind finally sounded off and she whipped around to the little wooden dresser resting next to her bed. Frantically she dug in the drawer for something, anything pointed to keep at him away like an animal trainer and her stick to ward off the lurking tiger with hungry eyes. At the sound of his steps rushing to seal the gap between them, she spun on her heel, her hand raised with a crochet needle she’d stolen from one of the nun’s to jab him. Catching her wrist before it could make contact, he shoved her backward against the wall and flattened himself to her. Securing both her wrists in one hand, he snatched the object from her hand and made quick work of fastening them up inside the cuffs. 

Panicked and desperate, she let out a winded cry and began to flail the same way many of the patients did when they refused to go down for the medication. Oliver was quick and wrapped his arms around her waist and she jumped about, her legs kicking and sending him backward to slam against the wall. 

"Tsk tsk tsk..." he chastised under his breath as he quickly slid them both down the wall to the floor. 

“Get off…” she said through clenched teeth, the anger and helplessness evident in her shuddering voice. “Get off me, Oliver!”

The terrified sensation she’d felt as a little girl so many years ago returned full force except this time, she couldn’t crawl under her covers in hopes that the terror would leave her be. Lana twisted desperately to get free, but Oliver's strength far overpowered her own. His arms wrapped around her chest and his long legs wound around hers in restraint as if the darkness itself had sprouted limbs to at long last swallow her whole. A dark grin spread over his face as her already dwindling strength died away and her now vacant, red eyes spilled with hot tears. Finally with her last jerk, she went limp in the arms of the nightmare that forever stalked the edges of her mind.

"Calm down... You’re always so afraid of me." he said softly, the baritone of his voice gently bouncing off the four, suffocating walls of the cell. He rested his cheek against hers, reveling in the smoothness and warmth of her pressed completely against him. “I told you a long time ago that I don’t want to hurt you.”

She turned her face to the side as a subdued struggle to ignore him. Assured that she wouldn’t try to dash for it, he released her as little as necessary and tugged himself out of his sweater, his standard issue inmate shirt pulled over his head right after. The need to feel her skin, living skin against his was undeniable and it was still so soft, even in this hell hole. His palms glided over her exposed breasts, squeezing them gently to memorize the feel of them in his mind. 

Burying his nose into her hair, he inhaled deeply of her scent and found himself a little relieved that the bland facility soap had left her own scent unmasked. 

“Lana, why do you become so uncomfortable when faced with such deep emotion like this?” he asked quietly and when she still didn’t respond as another show of her stubbornness, he commented further, “You’re always so goddamned full of fight….”

She didn’t say anything and he just watched her wrists twist at the cuffs from over her shoulder. “What would happen if you softened to it and enjoyed being vulnerable instead? Control is just an illusion, you know?” he whispered in her ear as his palm crept down the taught smoothness of her naked belly until he found the band of her white cotton underwear. “Just like your illusion of one day getting out of here, the illusion of being free... But the truth is the memories we share will never allow you to be free.”

The tips of his long fingers crept under the band, toying with the delicate skin of her mound between her thighs. The moment she felt the heat of that wandering hand, Lana startled and tried to lurch out of his arms as if she’d been burned. Annoyed, Oliver suddenly gripped her arms and pushed her down to the floor. Crawling over her, he straddled her waist to pin her beneath him. 

“Sure things have been rough between us in the past, but you have to let it go.” he commented. 

Slowly his dark irises wandered over her naked chest, watching it rise and fall with each baited breath in fear of what he may do to her next. His fingers traveled slowly down the small space between her breasts where he could feel her heartbeat thrumming under his fingers. He couldn’t resist the delight he felt at the thought that he was the only one to stir this type of reaction out of her. Even though it wasn’t one that he preferred, he took comfort in the fact that it was just for him nonetheless. With a small smile, his fingers danced along the curve of her breast, swirling a little pattern of his own over her nipples like a little boy finger painting until they hardened into little pink pebbles before his eyes. Filled with loathing, Lana sat up quickly, but he pushed her back down to the cold floor. 

“No matter what you do, I’ll always hate you until my last dying breath…” she said bitterly and his index finger sealed her lips.

Leaning down, he smoothed his palm down her cheek and when his thumb trailed along the soft curve of her trembling bottom lip, she glared at him. He shook his head, "Shhh... Let's not ruin this with insults. It’s best to save them for tomorrow to keep us busy." 

“Don’t worry… I don’t need to. When they find you in here in the morning, you’re going to wish you were dead.” she spat and brought her tied wrists to her chest to try to shield her body from his eyes. 

“IF they find me.” he said with narrowed eyes, his expression threatening and she looked at him confused, her brows crinkling in confusion as to how he planned to get out of here without anyone’s notice. 

Brushing his short dark hair back with his hand, Oliver pulled off his glasses and slid down her legs. He inhaled her scent as he went, his cheek and jaw never breaking contact with the soft skin of her flat belly. Lana shifted as the beginnings of the dark, bristly stubble along his jaw tickled her. Creeping lower, he nipped at the gentle curve of her hipbones with his teeth until his lips met that white band of her panties again. When he looked up to see her ignoring him, he hooked his fingers into the elastic and pulled them down her slender legs in one swift tug then tossed them over his shoulder.

"Oliver, what do you want from me?” she asked, snapping her thighs shut as she looked down at him with wide, fearful brown eyes. “To play house again like the sick brutality you subjected me to in your basement? Your psychiatrist should’ve alerted you to the fact that you’re getting a little too old for children’s games." 

And just like that, his mind was wrapped around his most memorable moments they’d shared in that basement that made him feel as though the torture of his life was finally changing for the better. Like the way she said she forgave him because a mother’s love truly is unconditional. Or when she called him her baby…. And suddenly his mind went blank. 

“Well it's like they say, Lana….” he said in a dull tone. “We crave what we can't have.”

And with that he sat up, his eyes glazed and his breath heavy and he grasped both her breasts with his hands. Lana’s eyes glued to the ceiling as his lips brushed over a still hardened nipple. The wet heat of Oliver's mouth then wrapped around it, sucking on the sensitive little nub for a moment then pulled back with it between his lips in what felt like a slow, agonizing tug. 

She winced while the slippery texture of his tongue dragged over her skin to send an unwelcome rush of heat between her legs. A large hand slid down between her thighs, brushing against her folds as he sucked and her hips bucked involuntarily. Already she could feel the dark smile spreading across his face and the hardened bulge pressing into her thigh. 

When he finally pulled away, her eyes were listless and he realized she was trying to block him out like she did the first time they were together. And to Lana there was nothing, only the feeling of his hands somewhere on the peripheral of her daze, but suddenly her eyes went wide when a pair of fingers slid into the hot passage between her folds. 

Falling back to her earth, her eyes met with his and he gave her a dark grin. “Going somewhere?” 

Her mouth opened to berate him, but only a soft cry tumbled off her tongue as his hand quickly set to work between her legs to stroke that hidden spot deep inside. Her jaw dropped open, her face twisting as though she were in the most terrible of pains while wave after wave of hot, pulsing pleasure coursed quick and unrelenting through her hips. Her thighs snapped around his hand and after several minutes her hips began to rock with the movement of his hand, chasing it despite herself. 

After a long moment, his hand pulled back to watch as the shining wetness coating his fingers left a thin trail connecting them to the now aching tunnel they’d just emerged from. Oliver quickly forced his way between her thighs and shoved his white underwear down his slender hips. The urge to be inside her was driving him crazy. Before she realized what was happening, he gripped his hardened length in hand and slid himself inside of her in one deep thrust. 

Lana’s mouth dropped open, her back arching and her thighs squeezed his waist at his sudden intrusion. A rush of anger, degradation, helplessness, and the lack of control over her own life boiled to the surface and before she even realized what was happening she lunged at him, her hands wrapping around Oliver’s throat.

His eyes widened as she tried to cut off his air supply and he hurriedly shoved her off, sending her toppling to her back. He was on her almost immediately, a pair of large hands grasping her neck in return as his expression shifted from tolerant to the temper filled animosity she knew he possessed. But even as they tussled about, it was hard for him to concentrate when all he could remember was her wrapped around his hard length, hugging and soaking him so sweetly. Mentally his mind reeled to get her under control while his erection screamed to once again be engulfed inside of her wet heat.

"St-Stop it! Oliver... Get off-" she strained out and felt his hips snap and the foreign sensation of him shoving himself inside her again, filling and stretching her completely. His hands around her neck held fast as he thrust hard and deep. 

Lana winced and in this moment, she just knew that finally the struggle was coming to an end and that he is going to kill her. And this time the angel she’d seen in Oliver’s basement wasn’t here to kiss her goodbye. She closed her eyes to welcome the sweet release from this life that she knew was inevitable the moment Oliver stepped through those common room doors as another inmate like herself…. 

But when she felt the hard press of his lips over her own and the slick muscle of his tongue grazing hers did she realize that he was truly was right and that there is no such thing as being free. 

Oliver felt his skin come alive and all thought melted into the sensation of wet lips wrapped around his mouth and his length at the same time. Tearing himself away from their lip lock, he released her neck and leaned up, gripping her under the knees and lifting them to keep them where he wanted them. His thick brows scrunched and he bit his lower lip as he thrust into her quickly, the pleasure pooling in his groin. She brought her bound wrists to her chest and he watched her hands ball into little fists as he continued to stoke the already roaring flame he created deep inside her. His movements were strong and sure and despite herself, she cried out as pleasure washed through her belly with each brush against that sensitive spot deep inside. 

“No…” Lana whimpered through grit her teeth as her hips rolled upward with his thrusts and he watched captivated when she suddenly squeezed his member impossibly tight. All of a sudden her head tilted back and with a strangled cry, she melted into soft whimpers and gasps as her release plowed through her. 

Oliver let out a deep groan, forcing himself to a stop and very slowly pumped into her a few more times then pulled out. Sitting back on his haunches while still ragingly hard, he watched Lana writhe and felt his ego soar at the fact that she’d actually fallen apart so easily. Her legs wound and unwound, her head turned from side to side as she breathlessly came hard and without mercy. For a second he let himself feel a little shallow that he may surpass the talents of her old lover, Wendy. Even though he wasn’t very experienced, he had learned much from his time together with Lana. Not to mention it also helped that Wendy wasn’t exactly born with the equipment to do what he could do. 

Hurriedly he pulled off his white shoes and socks then shrugged out of his blue pants while she settled down. 

"Lana..." he huffed as she attempted to pull herself up from the floor onto uncooperative legs and Oliver grabbed her ankles, yanking her beneath him. "Lana, look at me..."

She turned her head away, pushing at his shoulders, “Why do you insist on torturing me?” 

“If feeling this incredible is what you consider torture then I’d hate to imagine what you think true torture is…” he commented and pulled her up roughly by her upper arms. 

Wrapping her thighs around his waist, he brought her up to sit atop his thighs. Her immediate response was to cover her chest with her bound hands, but he wouldn’t have any of it and pulled her arms over his head, locking himself between them and forcing her to look at him. Lowering her down onto his still hardened length, Oliver gripped her bottom tightly as he bounced her over his member with his hips. 

The ability to shut off her emotions had finally arrived and Lana forced herself into realizing that there was no other option but to settle into the moment as he’d told her to do. Face to face and arm in arm, Oliver listened closely as she struggled to stifle her sigh and quiet moans as her hips moved over his shaft, squeezing his sensitive skin. 

His face dove in, the barest press of his lips to hers once, twice, until he sealed them completely to hers. She was shaking under his touch and her breath quickened, warm puffs against his lips as the heat between her thighs was quickly rekindled with each stroke. 

Oliver suddenly released her lips and leaned back to brace himself against his hand, pulling her forward thanks to the cuffs holding her wrists together behind his head. As his hips rolled, a growing smile spread over his face as Lana slowly but surely let her building desire take the reins. Her back arched at the new positioning, allowing him to delve deep and he was quick to slip his free hand between them to stroke that lonely little aching bud that he’d been avoiding until now.

With half lidded eyes he watched as she rose and fell, the jerking of her hips over his own increasing with speed and slowing to the touch of his fingers leading the way. Her eyes were closed and her brown hair bounced atop her shoulders with his movement. For the first time, she was vulnerable to him, almost softened and he couldn’t help adoring how beautiful she was when a victim to her own desires.

“Ah-God…” he groaned out, squeezing his eyes shut while he thrust into her harsh and almost punishing. His own climax had been clawing underneath his skin, demanding to be released and he increased his efforts to take her with him. Her mouth dropped open, her teeth bared as the man beneath her angled his thrusts, pulling her to the edge of what seemed like a long torturous peer and the bliss filled waters resting beyond.

The moon outside the window above her bed disappeared behind the clouds, shrouding them in darkness and finally Lana let out a suppressed moan, her thighs locking around his waist as he threw her into the water to chase her release. Oliver’s back went rigid, his hips twisting in jerky spasms as he also followed her descent and while slowing his thrusts to draw it out of her, he smiled to himself in the dark as a rush of wetness once again poured over his skin…. 

The room was filled with the heavy pants of exertion and Lana managed to slide off him and to the floor, silently curling into a ball. She shut her eyes though not for sleep but more in the hopes that the remainder of the night would now go on uneventful. For a long while, there was nothing but darkness and silence and despite her being trapped in the room with her worst fear, sleep arrived thankfully to claim her. But before she could have it, the feel of Oliver’s hands pulling her to him again snatched her from sleeps grasp, reminding her that the night was still young. 

 

When morning arrived, the pop of the heavy cell door sounded through the small room. Lana awoke in her bed and she was quick to scramble out of the door rather than shut it again as she had done so often before. After a long moment, a slender black figure strode into the room and green eyes glanced over its seeming emptiness. It was spot check and Sister Eunice walked over to the bed, looking over the mattress and strewn blanket Lana left behind. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she walked to the foot of the bed as a pair of dark brown eyes followed her black shoes and stockings. Turning around on her heel, Mary suddenly kneeled down and let out a soft gasp to see Oliver curled up underneath, his knees to his chest. 

"Oliver..." she said like a chastising mother who'd just busted her child doing something wrong. "You know what this means don't you?" 

 

====To be continued….====


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traumatic experiences always leave their imprint, coming back to haunt us in such a way that it ensures we will never forget. A/U. (Rated explicit for upcoming chapters)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my twisted imagination.

A/N: This fic is not meant to offend anyone or cause some outrageous revolt. It is simply another product of three options: too much smutty imagination, too much time on my hands to help it thrive.

Pairing: Oliver Thredson/Lana Winters.

From the hall, Lana peered in through the doorway of her cell as Oliver was guided out by the men in white that had been so conveniently absent when she need them most. Of course now that their tyrant of a leader was here, conveniance was a thing of the past. Oliver didn’t even put up a fight after the orderlies arrived and just let himself be pulled him out from underneath the bed with a somber expression.

Once to his feet, he was escorted out of her cell. Lana's cold brown eyes remained locked with Oliver's and he gave her a hardened stare in return. He stood directly before her, calm and stoic with his arms held tightly by the orderlies at his side while his tall figure was chained and cuffed from the ankles to his wrists. They spoke not a word and held each other’s gaze, one filled with hatred, the other filled an underlying longing.

Before the last wrist cuff was secured, Oliver suddenly jerked forward in Lana’s direction and the security guard on standby rushed up, his nightstick withdrawn and struck Oliver across the face. Immediately he let out a deep bellow, his voice bouncing across the emptiness of the long hallway of cells. Lana watched with numb, unforgiving eyes as a small gush of blood rushed from his nose and he dropped to his knees, crumpling over to clutch his face. The orderlies pulled him up to a sitting position by his arms and he looked up at Lana, his face twisted with the blinding pain shooting through his nostrils.

"You're becoming quite the problem child around here, Oliver." Sister Eunice said nonchalantly, her green eyes giving the cell a last once over as she strolled out and up to Oliver, peering down into his dark eyes. “Forcing yourself on Miss. Winters… I guess losing your first baby to the system wasn’t enough of a cautionary tale for you. And if you’ve created another, it will suffer that same fate you know so well, especially after the way you had Kit Walker's child ripped away from its mother’s arms… Babies will _not_ be raised here and will be given to St. Ursula’s home for lost children. No exceptions.”

“No! Sister…” Oliver huffed out and sat back on his haunches. Shaking his head with his eyes scrunched tight, he forced himself to once again erase the memories he was still trying so hard to suppress all this time.

When he received the news via letter from the asylum that Lana had given birth while he sat behind a set of bars and a sheet of glass on the outskirts of town, the resentment and profound sadness he felt made him wretch knowing that the baby was immediately sent to an orphanage. It was an inevitable turn of fate and no matter what, he would never hold him in his arms, he didn’t even know his name…. As Oliver waited all those unbearable months for his trial to end, he longed for the awaited punishment he would receive and often it took all of his will not to just hang himself from the dingy bed sheets of his bed with each reminder that his only child was forced to relive his tormented life because he couldn't provide the better one he had in the making.

Oliver looked up from the red smear of his own blood coating his fingers to meet Lana's eyes, "You wouldn't really want to give him away, would you?"

When she didn't respond and just shook her head, his one free arm reached out for her suddenly and she quickly backed up out of his reach. Oliver’s face switched from desperate to disheartened the moment she deprived him of any comfort and he gave her a confused expression. They'd just spent the entire night together, him curled up against her with his head on her chest as he listened to her heartbeat the same way an infant would be comforted by its mother's presence.

“Lana?” he breathed out, his long fingers grasping at the air for her as the orderlies struggled to pull him back.

The distance she was giving him was nothing short of a frustrating reminder of what occurred just an hour ago in her cell. When he let her free of his grasp before sliding under his appointed hiding space beneath her bed before sunrise, he immediately felt the return of his lingering loneliness. Bereft, he watched with regret as Lana scrambled into her bed and curled into a ball, turning her back to him in such a way he could practically feel the coldness on his skin.

Oliver felt a burning at the back of his throat like the bitterest stomach acid that she would dismiss him so easily now. He reached out for her again, but the only comfort Oliver received was the faintest brush of his fingers along her arm when pain suddenly shot through the back of his head. His dark eyes widened, reflecting only emptiness as the small reporter in front of him disappeared into darkness.

“Son of a bitch just doesn’t know when to quit does he?” said the security guard under his breath after striking him down.

“You must be new around here. He is Bloody Face after all… What did you expect?” Sister Eunice stated flatly.

The guard gave the nun a look of surprise. Lana saw Oliver’s large form fall to the floor at her feet, his hands outstretched to just a few inches near her feet. She watched with a breath she didn’t realize she was holding as his long fingers curled into his palms as unconsciousness arrived to claim him.

Exhaling heavily, her eyes closed in much needed relief. He was out cold, probably would be for a few hours. A rather large orderly that she'd never seen before stepped up and plucked Oliver from the floor, hoisting his tall frame over his shoulder easily like a sack of flour in the kitchen.

“Put him in solitary.” Sister Eunice muttered, the irritation in her voice more than apparent. "Make sure he's somewhat comfortable, I suppose. He's going to be there for a while."

The security guard and the small handful of orderlies then headed down the hall, but Lana couldn't tear her eyes away from Oliver’s unconscious form, his limp arms dangling down the orderly’s back and his short dark hair hanging towards the floor.

"Your people let that monster in here..." Lana said, and turned to Sister Eunice with anger flashing in her eyes and yet her weak, trembling voice paved the way for tears to stream freely. "They didn't even check to see if he was still in his bed! You should hope I don't find a way out of here because every bit of this _will_ go to the police."

With a surprisingly soft expression on her face, Mary forced a small comforting smile and clasped her hands in front of her. "Miss. Winters, you’ve been through a traumatic ordeal… I get that. And I'll be dealing with the night staff personally as this is something we do not tolerate. But I assure you, it won't happen again.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?” Lana said coldly.

“Well, that's up to you…. Do with it what you will.” Sister Eunice said and moved closer to usher her back to her cell. “But I will guarantee one thing, if I get wind of any of your self proclaimed heroic nonsense leaking to the public, you won't like the consequences...."

Lana swallowed.

“I'm sure you've heard this story before.” Sister Eunice continued, her tall black figure standing straight as a board. “But like everyone else who’s tried to become a martyr around here, you won't enjoy the way your story ends."

Deciding to button her lip, Lana settled with a silent glare.

“Now… Let’s get you back into your cell to wait for the nurse on duty to evaluate you and get you cleaned up.” the nun finished and reached to slide the cell door open wide.

Lana frowned at the implication that her body would once again be exposed, poked, and prodded by unwanted hands. As the nun guided her in the direction of her cell, Lana stopped and slid out of the nun’s grasp. For a moment, she stared blankly into the cell and her body began to tremble all on its own. The light bulb hanging over her bed was flickering, flashing the small room from light to dark. Even though she knew that Oliver was nowhere in sight, the short flashes of darkness she saw left her terrified and frozen to the spot at the thought that he could be in there as he was before, lurking around in the shadows. Waiting.

She winced as the sticky remnants of Oliver's seed still clinging to the sensitive skin between her thighs made itself known. Lana quickly shook her head, her face twisting into an empty sob and she turned to Sister Eunice.

"Please don't make me go back in there...." she whispered in a small voice as tear threatened to spill over her lashes.

Mary sighed and finally nodded. "Alright, let's walk you down to the infirmary then… But remember, you’ll have to come back here to face your demons eventually."

 

****

 

The feeling of lost time seemed to fade in and out for Oliver as he sat alone in solitary, surrounded by darkness and silence and what he thought would be the comfort of his thoughts to push him through the long days. Being alone had never been a challenge for him to face, but the memories of his experiences from that night with Lana in her cell tormented him with an almost uncontrollable pining. The need to have her pressed up against him again was maddening like ants crawling under his skin, constantly in search of a way out that didn’t exist.

It began with a the lack of sleep which eventually led to the inability to dream in hopes of reliving those lost moments all over again.  Eventually the most basic of needs such as eating the food in the tray that was slid under the door became forfeit and instead he spent his time in the empty room, lounging around the floor thinking of how he would so readily give away his soul to at least have his old skin mask for comfort. Even if he could, it now paled in comparison to the only woman’s flesh that could satisfy his craving and yet it had always been there for him when no one else was.

With each day that passed, the orderlies then began to forget about removing the strait jacket he wore from time to time. And so he spent his days curled up in a ball or flat on his back in a corner, staring up at the ceiling with an almost vacant expression while his mind was constantly at play to recapture those memories with her that were steadily slipping away.

 

****

 

As Lana sat in the common room, puffing anxiously at the cigarette pressed between her lips, she gazed down at the game of solitaire she’d laid out for herself across the table in front of her. Laying another card down atop the row of cards she had been building with a soft plap, she glanced up at the common room doors. She wasn’t sure how long it’s been since Oliver was placed in solitary confinement seeing as keeping track of the passage of time was no longer a necessity. There wasn’t a day that went by that the facility wasn’t stealing it from her so why continue trying to hold onto something she no longer possessed? And even though Oliver’s presence was thankfully absent, as always he was never far from stalking her mind.

Her fingers moved the cards around the table quickly, calculating, her eyes moving over the numbers with precision until she’d assembled them all numerical order as the game required. It had taken days of pleading and begging to finally get a phone call to the outside, but thankfully the orderly, Carl, was still on her side. She was getting antsy now, her leg beginning shake with the mind drilling anticipation. Setting another card down, she glanced in the direction of the double doors again for a second then returned to her game. She was supposed to have been here twenty minutes ago….

Suddenly the double doors swung open and Lana looked up, a flood of relief washing through her mind as the almost forgotten face of her colleague from the cooking column timidly walked inside. Lana couldn’t help looking the woman’s outside attire up and down, the stylish blonde updo of her hair, the long white coat and gloves, and black stockings and heels to match. For the first time in what seemed like an unaccounted for amount of stolen years, she felt what was once a part of her life that was lost become found. Setting the cards down, Lana rushed across the room.

“Abigail!” she called out, a huge smile spreading over her face.

Abigail looked up, her expression clearly uncomfortable by the ill-fitting surroundings and dazed faces of the inmates stumbling throughout the common room as usual.

“Lana! My God, look at you….” she said, a hint of pity in her voice to see her old friend in such a place and immediately wrapped her arms around Lana’s shoulders in a tight hug.

It had been so long since she’d last felt the true warmth and comfort of someone on the outside and Lana couldn’t help herself but to fall into the hug, letting her frustrations melt between this woman’s arms.  “Are you alright?” she heard her say.

Pulling away, Lana averted her gaze for a moment then grabbed Abigail’s hand and led her over to sit in a more secluded sofa in a corner. Of course she knew that Abigail was well aware of the court case and the events prior that led up to now, there wasn’t a person in this town that didn’t, but she couldn’t bring herself to mention any of it again.

“I know that lunatic is in here with you…” she commented softly and held Lana’s hand in her own and suddenly as realization struck her, she quickly scooted closer to Lana, looking around the common room with wide eyes. “He isn’t here… with _us_ … is he?”

“No, he’s in solitary… For now.” Lana said comfortingly as she knew exactly the type of fear her friend was experiencing all too well, the type of fear that clung deep inside you to the bone like the coldest winter chill.

“He hasn’t done anything to you, has he?” Abigail probed, catching Lana’s weary brown eyes and watched them become glassy after a long moment of silence until they spilled down her cheeks.

Lana didn’t respond right away and wiped the buildup of tears streaming steadily down with her fingers.

“Oh, Lana…” Abigail whispered and quickly reached into her black handbag for a napkin, handing it to her to wipe her eyes. “I want to get you out of here, but I don’t know what to do.”

“You can’t. Others have already tried, time and time again.” Lana responded wistfully as her mind drifted to Kit who she had eventually told to just to move on with his life instead of coming back here to rehash these terribly haunting old memories. “But… there is one thing you can do.”

The blonde watched quietly as Lana dug into the pockets of her brown sweater feverishly until she pulled out several folded up pieces of paper. Grabbing Abigail’s purse, she stuffed them into it quickly and handed it back to her.

“Take these to the column, research them, and collect as much information you can on the facility and it’s past with the information written here.” Lana whispered then grabbed Abigail’s hands in her own tightly, looking into her eyes with a determined expression.

Abigail gave her a strangely curious flash in her eyes, unsure of whatever plan her friend was concocting. To her dismay, she couldn’t stop the thoughts of just how slightly unhinged she looked with her almost wild brown hair and wide eyes. Surely what Lana had in mind wasn’t something that she would be able to pull off on her own, not with what could be possibly stolen documents from someone who was technically considered a mental patient.

“Lana… I don’t thi-“

“You _have_ to do this. You’re on the inside at the column and you’re the only one I can trust. If this place gets shut down, the truth will be divulged and I’ll finally be free. But I can’t do that from in here…” Lana interrupted, her face filled with desperation. “You’re all I have left in hopes of ever getting out of here and since you’ll have access to the appropriate resources, we can make-“

Lana paused as an orderly passed them by and she looked to the floor, waiting patiently as the man in white looked both of them over with a suspicious glare until he disappeared across the room.

“We can make this happen.” Lana finished. “I’m still trying to work out how, but I plan to find my way into the administration office to go through the patient files. I know mine is there….”

Hesitant, Abigail sighed, “What if you get caught?”

Shaking her head, Lana reached across from them for her cigarette that she’d left in the ashtray atop the table with her playing cards. Taking a long drag, she exhaled a heavy cloud of white smoke and glanced around the room. “There isn’t anything they can do to me that hasn’t already been done. Now, I want you to meet me back here next week, same time, same day. I’ll have more information to give to you by then.”

Clutching her purse tightly to her chest by a hand, Abigail reached out and cupped Lana’s cheek, her face softening further. “I promise I’ll be back.”

Another tear slid down Lana’s cheek as she nodded, feeling the warmth of Abigail’s hand slide away from her face as she got up and headed towards the common room doors. The blonde gave her one last regretful look before disappearing out of sight. Moving back to her original spot, Lana slid back into her chair to resume her almost forgotten game of solitaire. Picking up the cards, a small smile spread over her face. Abigail may not be able to get her out, but with her help she could at least get this place shut down which in turn should grant her freedom. Except there was only one problem… Oliver would be moved to a better, suitable facility mental facility when in truth, she wanted him to rot in hell here.

Unless she found a way to kill him first.

 

 

 

====To Be Continued====

 

 

A/N: Thank you again to everyone who is following this story and I’m glad you’re still here! Sorry if this was terrible. I know some of you have been wondering since the beginning what happened to the baby so I decided to include something here in terms of progression simply because in truth, Johnny wouldn’t have a place here sadly as Briarcliff would never allow Oliver to keep him and we all know that Lana wouldn’t even if she could. So, it has been done.

*crumples over with Johnny feels*


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traumatic experiences always leave their imprint, coming back to haunt us in such a way that it ensures we will never forget. A/U.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my twisted imagination.

A/N: This fic is not meant to offend anyone or cause some outrageous revolt. It is simply another product of three options: too much smutty imagination, too much time on my hands to help it thrive.

Pairing: Oliver Thredson/Lana Winters.

 

 

 

Slipping in and out of recurrent nightmares is often like reliving the haunted presence of a memory that’s fresh as though it happened yesterday or one that’s since been lost within the recesses of the mind, forgotten to time. And under sedation, these nightmares are often at their worst, their blurred edges blending so perfectly with reality until you’ve realized it’s hard to wake up from a nightmare if you were never asleep to begin with. Oliver had always known the medication at the facility was questionable, but the staff had begun doubling up his dosage being administered recently in effort to help wean him off the reporter while he weathered out his long days in confinement. But thankfully to Oliver’s advantage, those moments lost within the hazy push and pull of the never ending river of his dreams were now coming to an end.

The clanking of locks followed by the brightest of white light streamed into the small cell and an orderly peered cautiously inside the black, empty space. He took two steps in when suddenly Oliver’s head leaned out beyond the darkness and into the line of light, catching the orderly off guard. Carefully, Carl looked the taller man up and down, his eyes wandering over the dingy strait jacket he still wore to make sure it was still in place.

“Hello, Carl….” Oliver said quietly, the tiniest smile playing over his lips and the orderly watched as he emerged completely into view. “I was beginning to think I was left for dead in this hole, but I’m glad to see someone still gives a shit.”

“That’s why it’s called solitary, Oliver.” Carl said matter-of-factly after Oliver gave him a rather dark and foreboding glare then casually walked deeper into his cell.

He then watched as the retired doctor plopped down on the floor in a corner and lay down, rolling onto his back and propping his dirty socked feet up high against the wall and crossed his long legs nonchalantly like a child without a care in the world. Oliver knew it was most likely time for his medication again, but he wasn’t quite ready. Not yet... If he wanted him to take it, he was going to have to work for it by coming over to _make_ him take it. At least the excitement of subdued defiance would get his blood pumping.

 “You disappoint me, Carl.” Oliver began as he watched from the floor as Carl walked over and looked down into his dark eyes. “After working in this asylum for so many years, I thought you of all people would understand that this tiny little cell _isn’t_ the actual punishment. No, it’s not the punishment at all…. It’s our minds that keep us imprisoned within ourselves. All day long it records and organizes information from our environment during consciousness and later, the most powerful organ in the human body responsible for protecting us against ourselves turns against us by switching those recorded events into nightmares while we sleep… The majority of the brain shuts down and our body enters a period of temporary paralysis, trapping us in our own bodies and forcing us to relive whatever our mind has collected and turning it into demented ‘stories’”.

“What’s your point, Doc?” Carl said with annoyance, looking over the length of the man strewn over the floor with precautionary practice before beginning the task of unbuckling the strait jacket.

“While I lay here in this cell in the dark, listening _all_ day to the cruelty and mistreatment bouncing across these walls, the solace I once thought of as sleep replays those moments for me all over again... Now just think about being trapped alone all this time inside these walls with those ‘stories’ of this place and what they could do.” Oliver said quietly as he stared up at the ceiling, looking on at the shapes of light cast across it from the hall and the slanted bend of Carl’s shadow along the walls. “The brain is quite the horrifying place, Carl, if you think about it.”

“Well if it wasn’t, we wouldn’t have someone like you now would we, Thredson?” The orderly responded with a sarcastic smile and leaned down, making quick work of removing the jacket. “Come on, let’s get you out of this thing so we can get out of here.”

Oliver glared at the orderly out of the side of his eyes, a heavy sigh escaping his nose as Carl pulled him up from the floor and to his feet. With a shake of his shoulders, the confining jacket fell to the floor and he stretched, feeling the strain of unused muscles in his arms screaming in protest under his skin. Reaching down, he snatched up his sweater and slid it on. Carl looked on in a quiet curiosity as the doctor tucked in his blue uniform shirt while smoothing the wrinkles out, straightened his collar perfectly back into place, and buttoned the cuffs at his wrists and he swore it seemed as if in Oliver’s mind he were still wearing one of his well tailored suits. Oliver moved to side step the orderly and exit the cell, more than eager to seek out a bath, when an arm shot out to bar his passage. Confused, Oliver eyes met the orderly once more.

“You ain’t gonna be so eager to leave this little nest here once you find out what Sister Eunice has in store for you.” Carl muttered and attempted to pull Oliver’s hands behind his back for cuffing.

“What are you talking about? I’ve probably been in here for two weeks and based on civil standards, I’ve served enough time here.” Oliver argued, his brows crinkling with confusion and irritation.

“Yeah well, you ain’t calling the shots around here no more, Doc.” Carl commented.

Jerking his wrists free, Oliver turned on him and backed up towards the open doorway in disbelief of the never ending cycle of torture until he bumped into a solid mass of a man behind him. His eyes widened when a thick arm wound around his neck and he immediately pulled and twisted for freedom. Carl looked on with a rather amused expression as both men tussled about for several minutes, his eyes locked with Oliver’s as he listened to his struggled breaths and quiet wheezing through the narrow passage of his windpipe underneath the strong forearm threatening to crush it.

Seconds often feel like hours when you suddenly have so few of them left and Oliver felt himself grow light headed from the lack of adequate oxygen to his brain and his hands grasped and clawed at the strong, muscled forearm around his neck until his strength waned. Carl shook his head with mock pity as Oliver’s hands finally fell to dangle loosely at his sides and his body sagged towards the floor.

After a long moment, the blackness filling Oliver’s eyes slowly began to clear and he dazedly felt the cold cement of the floor outside his cell slam against his cheek as he was dropped harshly to the floor, his glasses sliding off his face and out of reach. After a moment, he took a deep breath followed by a fit of coughs, his chest gulping mouthfuls of the air that was ripped away from his lungs after his struggle within the brutish orderly’s arms.

Dimly, he saw the white shoes of one of the men walk around his sluggishly moving body and kneel down in front of his face though he wasn’t sure who.

“C’mon, Thredson… You didn’t really think your little field trip to solitary would be all you’d get after the stunt you pulled on Winters, did ya? If so, you disappoint me too.”

A pair of hands turned Oliver onto his back and he gazed up into the white hallway light dangling above that blocked out the orderly’s face. A tight grip found its way under both his arms and lifted him slightly up from the floor. Immediately he began to thrash about, shoving the orderly behind him backward against the wall, but he wasn’t able to get far when a burst of white pain shot through his nose from the crack of a fist.

Through his daze, Oliver watched as his body was then dragged down the length of the hallway by his arms, the white rubber at the bottom of his shoes leaving stray skid marks along the floor like a trail of breadcrumbs to where he hoped someone would find what he imagined to be his broken body left behind once they were done with it.

 

 

 

 

By the time his dark eyes reopened, Oliver hissed loudly through his teeth and immediately brought his hands up to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose with his fingers as blistering pain shot through his nasal canal from an apparent beating he barely remembered receiving. The clinking of cold metal around his wrists as they moved led him to deduce that he was handcuffed. Carefully he touched his face, feeling the area for blood, fractured or broken bone, but thankfully there was none found. Once again, the reminiscence of the situation filled him with an immediate frustration and a lasting sadness as the memories of his childhood reared to the forefront of his mind in reminder of the many times he’d been bullied and beaten as a small child by his classmates because he was ‘different’.  

Blinking several times to clear the build of tears of pain from his eyes, Oliver suddenly shot straight up in realization that he was reclining in an empty tub in what appeared to be the facility’s hydrotherapy room. With a wince, he carefully shifted to get up, but his eyes shot open completely when he heard a sharp and abrupt voice.

"Not so fast…"

Turning with a confused expression in the direction of the sound, his eyebrows furrowed at seeing the distorted yet familiar fiery red hair and slender frame of his appointed young doctor. With a roll of his eyes, his hand dropped from his face and he slowly settled himself back down to a more comfortable sitting position.

“Oh great… _You’re_ here.” he said with obvious sarcasm and watched her closely as she crossed the room towards him, her black heels tapping over the floor until she stood directly in front of him.

The young doctor folded her arms and stared directly down into his eyes.

"How do you expect me to take you seriously and even begin to question whether or not you're improving when you can't even give my therapy longer than a day’s worth of consideration?" she asked, the irritation more than evident. "I can't help you if you won't let me."

Oliver groaned aloud and leaned his head back against the tub, sagging himself further down into it and closed his eyes. The doctor watched him reach up and run a hand down the side of his face in frustration, seeing the questioning look on his face the moment he realized his eyeglasses were missing. She knew he didn’t want to hear any of what she had to say right now, but it wasn’t as if he had somewhere else to be.

"You're wasting your time… Isn’t there someone else around here you could pester for treatment? I’m sure the head banger in the common room would love a little chat with someone else aside from that brick wall." he finally replied in a deep, bored tone.

Dropping his hands in his lap, his eyes suddenly widened and he looked down at himself, snapping out of his disorientation at the sensation of skin against skin to discover the orderlies had stripped him of all forms of clothing completely. She took a seat on the edge of the tub and Oliver curled over on his side with humility, his bound hands covering his exposed nether regions. His nostrils flared with anger and his eyes flashed as he glared up at the doctor, "What’s happened? And how long have you been sitting here watching me like this?"

“Vulnerability isn’t very becoming of you, Oliver. In fact it’s quite different when you’re on the receiving end, isn’t it?” the doctor questioned and looked down at him out of the corner of her eyes. “Cuffed hands, stripped of your last shred of dignity, all while someone you loathe watches you squirm and you're powerless to stop it. The similarity of this situation and what you did to Miss. Winters is strikingly familiar…. But don't worry, this is as far as _I’ll_ go.”

When he simply glared back in silence, she sighed as reached into the lapel of her suit jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, "For a minute, I didn't think you'd ever come to. Right now it’s 10:00 a.m. You've been out for the past 2 hours and you missed for our session at 8:00... Your little resistance episode this morning has thrown us off track so right now, you'll be getting a double dose of therapy here with me and the water therapy in that tub."

He watched her incredulously as she pressed a white stick from the pack between her red lips, lit it and puffed out a little circle of white smoke. Oliver watched the tiny cloud drift lazily in the air towards the ceiling, its shape wobbling about until it dissipated.

"Don’t you realize you could possibly be granted parole one day?” she asked quietly, her green eyes flitting back to his own and she tapped her cigarette, letting the buildup of ashes scatter from the cherry at the end. “Of course you’re nowhere fit to run the streets anytime soon, but perhaps with the appropriate treatment and with an extensive amount of time, you could one day return to a piece of the life you lost….”

When he responded with a puzzled look, she continued, “Oh come on, Oliver… You used to work for the state for Christ’s sake. The system works in mysterious ways, you know this.”

With a heavy sigh, Oliver leaned his head back against the edge of the dingy tub, his eyes searching the ceiling for answers that weren’t scribbled in the cement above his head. After all these weeks, she still didn’t get it. Finally he chucked quietly to himself.

“If all I have is you as my anchor then I’m in for a long wait… So why the rush?” he queried with a small dark smile.

“Well here’s a news flash, Oliver. You have been appointed to me and you will continue to receive treatment whether you want it or not because that’s what they pay me for. I know you still believe you’re the better psychiatrist, but this is where you and I differ…” she began and crossed her legs, leaning over the edge of the tub to peer down into his dark eyes and recapture his attention. “I see you for what you _really_ are… You became a psychiatrist to see if others minds were as twisted as yours and that you weren’t alone in your suffering rather than to help them because you shared the same conflict.”

“I beg your pardon-“ he began, his thick brows knotting together as his held titled to meet her gaze.

“I used to be like you at first.” she interrupted, her eyes narrowing with a level of contempt he’d never seen her wear.  “You took this profession so seriously when you arrived here… Gallivanting about declaring the unlawful treatment around this place and attempts to provide suitable treatment for these patients. I did too… But look how far this place has come since your reign and mine. Do you ever wonder why that is?”

Oliver cocked a thick eyebrow at her.

“We both know the truth. This is becoming a ridiculous profession no matter where you go and you know it. The only people that actually take it seriously are the upper class who can afford to pay someone to listen to their problems. They don’t want advice; they want someone to tell them what to do with their pathetic lives that are falling apart at the seams because they made such horrendous life choices. And this place only used us as a smoke screen.”

Oliver watched her lean back and took a deep puff of her cigarette as she stared across the room, the wheels in her mind turning but to what purpose he wondered.

“Well I guess you’ve got it all figured out for yourself, don’t you?” he finally responded in a low voice, the disgust lacing his tongue that she would have the audacity to compare herself to him in the first place. “You’re right about one thing, we are different in ways you will never understand. It’s your _job_ not to be judgmental. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’ve _failed_ miserably. These people don’t have anyone else to help them except you. I may be a monster, but I took my Hippocratic Oath seriously.”

“Says Bloody Face….” she added.

The rage behind Oliver’s narrowed eyes flickered and he looked away, effectively ending the conversation. The young doctor finally sighed in slight relief, her face softening at the fact that her little hidden agenda of a test had in fact proven that somewhere in there, amongst his problematic infatuations and sociopathic tendencies, he still held onto a portion of the passionate doctor he once was, that there was possibly still hope for this man.

“You know, I’d have hoped that you would come to appreciate this time we have together rather than some of the other primitive forms of treatment around here, but… suit yourself. You’re going to wish you had when the water goes on.” she told him honestly. “And for the record… your report doesn’t quite do you justice because you’re exceptional at hiding your true self until you’re ready for someone to see it.”

She flicked her cigarette onto the damp cement, stubbing it out with her black heel and moved to walk away and signal the nurses to begin the water therapy when Oliver’s hand suddenly shot out from the tub, grabbing her wrist tightly. Her smaller body jerked backward towards the tub, smacking her against it and she let out a yelp as she slid to the floor.

Quickly Oliver rose from the tub as naked as the day as he was born and stepped out. He’d had enough. He was tired of being a toy for the orderlies and staff’s enjoyment. The small doctor slid to the floor, her confident and egotistical façade now washed to the floor around her feet like he’d just thrown a bucket of water in her direction. The barely contained fear she expressed when she felt his hand grip her wrist blossomed over her face as she stared, wide eyed up at him, wrought with true terror that the cuffs around his wrist did little to thwart his strength. Desperately she pulled against his grip, her heels scraping and sliding frantically against the wet concrete in effort to gain leverage as Oliver gripped the front of her jacket and pulled her up before his face.

“You’ve got much to learn if you think these petty games of cognitive dissonance that you enjoy playing around with so much are going to get you what you want out of me…” he jeered, his white teeth bared with anger. “Don’t you get it! If I wanted out of here, I could’ve easily found a way as so many have done before if I truly wanted to. But what’s the point when the very thing I need is in here with me now?”

“Oliver, you’re hurting me!" she whimpered, the pounding of her heart thundering in her ears as she stared directly into his dark chocolate eyes.

“I know…” he responded, his anger escalating at the fact that she wasn’t even listening to a word he’d said. She was treating him with complete disregard like…. like… like _her_. And suddenly the face of the reporter that escaped his basement crept through his mind like a slow poison as it usually did every waking hour of his day.

The young doctor’s legs kicked, sending a black heel slipping from her foot and to the floor with a clatter as Oliver dragged her body with him by her jacket. Finally the scream burning at the back of her throat belted out the moment he smashed her backward into the delousing shower at the back of the room.

When the orderlies rushed inside, Oliver let her drop to the floor at his feet finally as if nothing was happening and backed up, raising his bound hands up lazily in front of him as a sign of non-aggression. His eyes however never left the doctor sitting on the floor at his bare feet inside the shower surrounded by rusted metal bars curved inward like a rib cage waiting to snap shut with her still inside.

She waited quietly, brushing her red locks out of her eyes, her breath heavy as she hurriedly straightened her suit jacket and ran her fingers through her hair to regain her composure while the orderlies forced Oliver back down into the tub, covering it with the grey cloth to secure him underneath it. Not until she witnessed the little prick of a needle containing a sedative being thrust into the skin of his arm did she finally stand.

One of the orderly's rushed up to her, questioning if she had been hurt, but she angrily brushed him off, “I’m fine!”

Oliver watched with mild amusement as the orderly backed off while the medication drifted through his blood stream, filling him once again with a strange and weighty sense of euphoria, softly blurring the edges of his vision.

The moment the straps were tied securely around the tub to lock him down underneath and the orderlies had exited the room, the young doctor took a deep breath and stalked up to him once more after regaining her composure, her walk awkward and wobbly from her missing shoe.

“Despite what you think, I’m not afraid of you…” she whispered with a slight coldness he could’ve imagined himself to be proud of if he weren’t still idly fuming.

“How many times do tell yourself that until you believe it?” he said quietly, his low voice rumbling lazily about the room. “Especially now knowing that I could possibly get out of here whenever I please, I wonder how many times it takes before you're able to fall asleep tonight.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, furious and reached behind the tub, twisting the silver nozzle with a loud squeak, cranking the temperature up ten degrees. Oliver’s eyes widened and he winced, his mouth dropping open as hot water rushed into the tub, searing his exposed skin.

"May as well get comfy… It’s going to be a long two hours." he heard her say under her breath somewhere within the encompassing heat of the water and the fog of the drug taking its full effect and this time he hoped to find some semblance of a dreamless sleep.

His eyes grew heavy and eventually his head tilted back, thumping against the rim of the tub and he was out. After slipping her foot back inside her shoe, the doctor sat on the edge of the tub once more, looking at him closely now that she felt comfortable enough to be within this close vicinity again.

"It’s a shame what you've become…. So intelligent, so full of potential, so promising... And so handsome." her green eyes trailed up his exposed throat, over the smooth contours of his face, and his short damp hair. "You had the world at your fingertips and you let it escape your grasp. What a waste."

Slowly she reached up to brush a dark stray stand of hair from his forehead then reached into her breast pocket, pulling out his black rimmed glasses. An orderly had brought them to her after his resistance to comply with his next round of treatment this morning.

It had been foolish, she knew, to have a session with him without maximum restraint seeing as she was well aware he was more than dangerous, but part of her also knew he had probably done this for just the thrill out of sheer boredom to get her to back off. Though she couldn't tell if he truly wanted to hurt her seeing as he could have killed her inside that shower.

But he didn't.

And that alone was the reason why she was so eager to take on his case in the first place. There were so many unknown unknowns to be dealt with inside his mind that were right at her fingertips. To imagine how far she could go after being the only doctor willing to endure it all to gain the knowledge that most in this profession could only dream to obtain. Who needed unproven case studies or even biographical films with loosely based serial killers acclaimed as “true stories” when you had the real thing within a contained environment to study?

"If circumstances were different, I bet you'd have loved to skin me alive if you could." she whispered and reached up, carefully sliding his eyeglasses into place over his nose while he slept. "Well, not today."

She stood up, dusting off her black skirt and set her still full pack of cigarettes, minus one stick, and her lighter atop the cloth covering the tub he was in for him to have when he returned to the rest of the populace in the common room later today. It appeared in his own twisted way, and to her satisfaction, he'd earned them.

 

 

 

====To be Continued=====

 

A/N: WELL! Kind of wasn’t expecting this to come out this way, but oh well! Seems like everyone is developing their own hidden agendas it seems. Funny how that happens... I blame the fact that there are too many people running amuck inside my brain. And with Oliver Thredson as one of them, anything is possible. Thank you so much for the comments!! I hope this was a chapter that was enjoyed! XD


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traumatic experiences always leave their imprint, coming back to haunt us in such a way that it ensures we will never forget. A/U. (Rated explicit for upcoming chapters)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my twisted imagination.

A/N: This fic is not meant to offend anyone or cause some outrageous revolt. It is simply another product of three options: too much smutty imagination, too much time on my hands to help it thrive.

Pairing: Oliver Thredson/Lana Winters.

 

 

 

 

In the asylum’s main entryway that once served as her escape route from this hell so long ago,  Lana paced back and forth in front of the glass doors anxiously. It’s been almost three weeks since she last saw Abigail, her absence in visitations excessively disheartening now more than ever before and the more she paced the floor thinking about it, the more she had a sense that her fabricated plan was quickly falling flat.

Her mind ran rampant over what could possibly be her next course of action if her plan A back fired and before she knew it, the reporter was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the nun looking at her from the steps of the spiral staircase suspiciously. Feeling a pair of eyes on her, Lana looked up, the sound of her rambling whispers finally catching her ears. Another wandering inmate in the background must have recognized the uniform and began to yell and scream and Lana turned her back to the woman, listening quietly as the nun treaded down the stairs behind her and went on her way.  

The sounds along the walls intensified. Quickly she closed her eyes to shut out the wails and screams pouring out of the dark depths of the asylum. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she couldn’t help feeling as though there were similarities to being in the 5th layer of hell. The asylum had become the River Styx and she stood atop the water where the souls with rage continued to fight back against the facilities oppressors while the others succumbed to their fate and just lay lazily beneath, alone in their cells and forgotten.

Somewhere deep inside, she knew this place was going to devour her soul if she let it. And when that moment arrived, _IF_ it arrived, she would be trapped here forever, never to return to the life that was slipping through her fingers. In frustration, Lana ran her fingers through her disarray of brown locks, gripping the strands at the roots tightly. With a heavy sigh and a fresh application of duct tape to her frayed nerves, she finally peered out through the glass of the double doors at the sun just beyond her reach. The afternoon sun was setting which meant there was only an hour left for visiting and still her friend from the Column was nowhere to be found.

If she’d waited all this time, it was a possibility that she wouldn’t be coming back. Deciding she’d waited long enough, Lana turned away from the doors and moved to head up the winding metal staircase to her cell when a sudden rush of chilly February air rushed up the back of her blue dress and she spun around to see the familiar blonde figure of her one and only opportunity for liberation stepping through the door.

“It’s been two weeks!” Lana whispered harshly as she all but ran up to the young woman, winding her arms around Abigail for a moment, feeling the plush sensation of her long fur trench press against her skin. Finally she pulled back and looked directly into her vibrant violet eyes. “I didn’t think you were coming back!”

“I’m sorry, I just… I needed some time to think about this plan of yours because let’s face it, Lana, it’s almost…” Abigail paused, looking around the room for any onlookers before covering her mouth with her hand, “ _Crazy_! You’re going to dig yourself deeper into trouble that you already are.”

Lana grabbed her wrist and pulled her over to the side next to a carefully crafted pillar and away from the now leering eyes of the security guard sitting at the desk by the front entry. "It’s not crazy…” she urged. “You have to give this more than a fleeting thought. This may be my _only_ chance and I need to know that you understand that.”

After a hesitant moment, Abigail finally nodded in agreement, “Well I did come back, didn’t I?”

Lana couldn’t help the smile of reassurance that her dear friend had not in fact given up on her, “Alright… I couldn’t get inside the administrators office, not yet. So I need you to-“

“You don’t have the documents?!” the other woman spouted in a fluttered whispered. “Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to come here, knowing that sociopath is wandering around _or_ that we could possibly get caught? I could end up just like you for sticking my nose where it doesn’t belo-!”

And just like that she suddenly backpedaled after seeing Lana’s face fall at the mention of her already apparent plight. “Oh, Lana I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it like that, truly. I’m just… a little afraid.”

Shaking off her accusatory statement of the obvious, Lana continued, “The security around here has been nothing short of exceptional after what happened to me a few weeks ago. After….”

“After… what?” Abigail pressed.

“Never mind that. Look, I know how difficult it must be to get in here sometimes since visiting hours are limited and seeing as I haven’t been able to produce the necessary information these past two weeks has not made it any easier, but I’m not going to let this prevent me from getting those files. Shutting this place down _is_ something worth fighting for...” Lana said and grasped Abigail’s hands in her own as she searched her dear friend’s eyes. “And without you… Well, you have to be strong because in here, I need every bit of strength I have to keep myself from losing my way.”

Abigail’s face twisted with worry and confusion as Lana’s hidden thoughts diverted away from her underlying meaning of the horrors crawling within these walls. “My God, Lana… This place, that _man_ …” she whispered, her face twisting with disgust at the thought. “What are they doing to you in here? Why won’t you tell me?”

 

 

Peering out through the small space between the steps underneath the winding staircase, a pair of dark eyes silently passed between both women while quietly absorbing the details of the “classified” conversation at hand. Since being released from solitary confinement’s clutches, Oliver made it a point to remain in his cell for the rest of the day after his exceptionally hot water soak and tasteless run in with the staff earlier this morning. After spending so much time surrounded by nothing but darkness, returning to the solace of his own cell and the little light bulb dangling brightly from the ceiling above his bed had never brought him so much peace. Now it was almost dinner and his drive for something other than the old leftovers from two nights ago that he was passed while in solitary finally brought him out of hiding.

His eyes narrowed, his thick brows knitting together in realization that Lana had apparently found ways to keep herself very occupied while he was locked away. Quickly he averted his gaze to mull over the possibilities of the plan Lana was implying, no, was in fact formulating with this external source to shut down Briarcliff.

And just as quickly, it was as if the world around him came screeching to a halt at the possibility of getting out of this place, being moved to a reputable facility, a place where the torment could end….

Slowly the sound of the women’s hushed voices pulled Oliver back from the recesses of his thoughts and his eyes flitted to Lana’s small form. He could feel the visible tension he saw in Lana’s body through her thin blue dress as she hesitated to respond to the woman’s questions, taking it as a clear indication that perhaps she preferred to keep the moment he and Lana shared together in her cell that night just between them. Of course, he’d never imagined her to be much of a gossiper in her private life before he brought her into his world. The intimate sensation of her warmth on his skin was not lost on him however and he felt a shiver creep up his back in remembrance of the unmistakable sensation of her wet passage, squeezing him in the most delightfully secret embrace every time she found her release around his aching member.

Taking a deep breath to steady his thoughts, Oliver focused his stealthy gaze back to the conversation at hand.

 

 

When Lana didn’t respond to Abigail’s questions, the blonde sighed and continued, “Well, I certainly hope at least that that sociopath is still under lock and key. That’s one less monster for you to deal with... And between you and me, if this place had any sense they’d do us all a justice and overdose him on his own medication rather let him continue to leech on the tax payer’s dime by keeping him alive in here.”

Upon impulse, Lana’s eyes bulged and she quickly grabbed Abigail’s arm and pulled her behind her, blocking the woman completely from view as the deceitfully calm baritone of the aforementioned closed in on them quickly.

“Thankfully we don’t have such closed minded ignorance to those suffering of mental illness on the judge’s stand.” Oliver said after being drawn out of hiding and casually strolled up to the to the two women, his irritated gaze pointedly locked with Abigail’s widening eyes as he closed the distance.

He promptly ignored the angry glare coming from Lana, brushing it off as a passing glance and focused solely on the blonde peering out behind her. The multitude of emotions passing over the woman’s face: recognition, shock, discomfort, fear, and loathing, would likely satisfy him for days. It was almost as if she’d given him a window into her own soul, telling him of all her truest inner feelings in a matter of seconds without even uttering a word because he knew better than any other that only in fear do we see one’s true self.

His eyes traveled over the two women and the tightening grip of the blonde’s small entwined fingers that she possessed on Lana’s hand until finally his gaze flitted back up to her face. “Tell me, would you feel so strongly about killing me if I were your brother, son… or husband?”

When neither of them responded, Oliver dug in his shirt pocket for his cigarettes. Slipping one between his lips, he lit it in the shell of his hands with a lighter from his pants. After inhaling deeply, thin streams of smoke curled slowly from his nostrils and he gave them a small smug expression.

“It’s not so simple when it hits close to home, now is it…?” he said quietly.

“Go to he-“ Lana began, but was interrupted when Oliver suddenly grasped her jaw, pursing her lips awkwardly to effectively prevent her from finishing that sentence.

Removing his cigarette from between his lips with his free hand, his eyes drifted to the guard sitting near the front doors who was busy reading a newspaper and back to Lana to stare directly down into her face, “I see your determination in my absence has put you beside yourself. Just look at the two of you… huddled together like scared little mice. Don’t assume I don’t know what the two of you are up to.”

Sliding his fingers down the soft skin of Lana’s cheeks, they traveled further down to her throat, massaging the skin and feeling her nervous swallow beneath his fingers. With the slight jerk of his arm, Oliver released Lana and gave both women a tiny smile.

As he then strolled away towards the dining hall, he placed his cigarette back between his lips and called out over his shoulder, “Lana, you’re welcome to join me for dinner. It may be unheard of around this place, but surely we can still have a meal together like civilized people…”

The moment he was out of sight, Lana spun on Abigail and gave her a determined stare, the fire in her eyes ablaze with a rekindled spirit. “As you can see, no matter where you think he is, he’s always watching…. But I _will_ … have those documents tonight. And once I do, you must return here by to retrieve them as soon as possible because if not, the staff will surely find them.”

Abigail blinked, her own sureness shifting after being in the presence of a well known murderer. Lana grabbed her shoulders, shaking them lately to bring her back down from wherever she was retreating to and finally the blonde nodded. “Okay… I promise this time I’ll be back. Without delay.”

Before Lana had a chance to bid her dear friend farewell, Abigail quickly made her way to the asylum’s front doors, looking back in the direction Oliver had just disappeared down one last time with distressed eyes before clumsily shoving her way out of the door. Lana stood there alone and raised her hand slowly, her fingers waving in a small gesture of goodbye and without any needed encouragement she quickly darted up the stairs to her cell to wait quietly for her chance to proceed with her plan, ignoring what awaited her in the dining room.

 

 

Oliver sat in silence at a dinner table in a corner alone, his fingers idly pushing around the mashed potatoes on his plate with a fork. So far, he’d waited at least an hour and by now, the dining room was still full and his food was cold. Lana had been a no show….

He’d spent the past few weeks sealed away from her and at first he thought he would’ve been annoyed the moment he saw her again, but his pent up frustration evaporated the moment he felt her smooth skin under his fingertips just now. Despite the fact that the moment was short lived, he couldn’t deny how much he craved to be in her presence again and he wondered for the hundredth time as he had also done while in solitary as to how often she thought about that night in her cell too, if she thought of him.

Sighing, Oliver dropped his fork onto the plate with a loud clank and reached into his pocket again, pulling out the pack of cigarettes and tossing them onto the wooden table. For a long moment, he eyed the red Pall Mall packaging the same way he did when he woke up from his soak in the hydrotherapy room to find them sitting atop the cloth covering his tub. The young doctor didn’t appear to be of the generous type, they weren’t an apology for her judgmental behavior, and she hadn’t given them to him out of misplaced pity either. No, he knew positive reinforcement tactics when he saw it…. But what was it exactly that she was trying to obtain by giving them to him. So far, her designed treatment had effectively been a failure of his own choosing, so why would he receive this supposed “reward”?

With a heady sigh, Oliver ran his fingers through his short dark hair, brushing several strands off his forehead. He groaned in aggravation that his hair was refusing to comply and simply fell back into its original place, adding to his frustrations the fact of no longer having the luxury of getting a haircut whenever he desired.

Pushing the cigarettes away from him, his mind drifted back to the woman who’d stood him up for dinner and his mind began to drift off and it suddenly struck him that it was perhaps her little planned stunt of getting those files that was keeping her from him. If so, she was foolish to think she would get away with them on her own and suddenly he smiled childishly at the thought of her getting caught and befalling the same punishment he had after turning him in to Sister Eunice. But the smirk disappeared the more he toiled over the possibilities of what the reporter could accomplish by obtaining the files she was after.

If she were caught, she would no doubt be sent to solitary as he had and after being away from her for so long, being forced to suffer through not having her within somewhere within his grasp again just didn’t sit well. But if she were successful, every patient here would be transferred out, including himself and Lana would possibly go with him. He knew her “illness” would play a major factor in her remaining confined for treatment, but if the fact that Sister Jude had her incarcerated under the pretense of crossing the line, she could walk….

 _If…_.

Suddenly his eyes wandered around the room, taking mental note of the fact that the few security guards and orderly’s were here in the hall with him which left the administration office upstairs under a much less watchful eye.

Before Oliver knew what he was doing, he jumped up and grabbed his tray and cigarettes. Sliding his food into the trash casually, he weaved his way through the chairs and dropped the red, rectangular pack in his hand inconspicuously onto a table in front of a female patient who was still eating for her to have. The patient looked up at him curiously, but he gave her a soft pat on the back and moved away. After giving the roaming security guards a final glance to confirm they were preoccupied, he slyly slipped out of the door and bounded up the metal staircase.

 

 

‘Administration’

Ducking inside the dark office, Lana crept quietly over to the large metal file cabinet in the corner. This was it. This was finally the moment she was going to take back her life. Her slender fingers curled around the silver handle of the first drawer with a little white label marked for last names ‘M-Z’ and tugged yet it didn’t budge.

Her heart began to race and she tugged at it several times more, causing the cabinet to shake and rattle before she stopped. She whipped around, looking through the textured glass of the door across the room for clarification that nothing was heard in the darkened halls outside.

If there was anything she’d clung to in life, her perseverance and thinking quickly on her feet had always been key and she began to dig wildly in the pockets of her blue dress,. Pulling out a handful of little black bobby pins she’d found pinned to a habit belonging to one of the nun’s while doing the laundry earlier this morning, Lana finally smiled to herself..

After bending the thin metal with her teeth, she jammed it into the tiny little keyhole of the drawer. Her hand twisted and turned, sweat beginning to dot her brow as she manipulated the lock until an abrupt click rang through the chilly air of the office. Carefully pulling the drawer open, Lana dropped the bobby pin and let her fingers do the walking, skimming along the tops of each manila folder and their individually marked sticker with a patient’s name and their distasteful alternative names whispering from her lips.

‘ _Martha, the headbanger… Pepper,the microcephalic … Rudy, the chronic masturbator… Shelley, the nymphomaniac… Spivey, the pedophile_ …’

And finally ‘ _Winters_ ’. Quickly she pulled it out, her fingers shaking as she quickly and quietly sifted through the papers inside the folder to make sure everything was there.

“You're running out of time, Lana."

Jumping, she turned around and bumped loudly against the open drawer to see the tall figure of the person she had hoped to avoid before lockdown for the night.

“Shhhh….” Oliver said quietly and slowly brought a finger up over his lips.

On instinct, her eyes glanced around the room and she scooted behind the desk, the folder clutched tightly to her breast. She watched him crack the door behind him that she never heard open to begin with to let her hear the steps of heavy leather boots of security echoing down the hall around the corner from a not so distant hallway.

“You know, you’re truly terrible at being secretive.” he said softly, his dark eyes following her timid movements behind the desk in effort to place a barrier between them. “I’d say you’ve got five minutes... Well, make that four because at this rate, you’ll be found before you even make your way down the hall. Unless… you come with me.”

Lana glared into his eyes leering back at her from behind his glasses then up the length of his tall figure blocking the doorway, “And why the hell would I do that?”

“What, you don’t think I snuck you out of this place the first time by sheer luck, do you? Use that ever observant mind of yours, Lana. I’m your only ticket out of here based off the simple principal of a previous hierarchy. You were just a patient while _I_ used to work here, remember? Someone with my motives, working late hours, roaming these halls freely…? You pick up a thing or two about the security of this place.” he responded with a bit of disappointment that she hadn’t discovered this on her own.

Lana swallowed hard and he could see her mind searching desperately for a resolution, a way out, anything to avoid going willingly into his arms. Oliver turned the silver handle of the door behind him once more and stole another peak down the hall, seeing the dim flash of a flashlight fluttering in the dark before closing it. He let his gaze fall on her across from him again while she continued to weigh her options. They were coming and she knew as well as he did that if they found her, it would be over and her punishment would be swift, cruel and unimaginably devastating.

"Tick… tock…” he said slowly and extended a hand out, his open palm up to wait for her decision.

 

 

 

 

====To Be Continued====


	9. Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my twisted imagination.

A/N: This fic is not meant to offend anyone or cause some outrageous revolt. It is simply another product of three options: too much smutty imagination, too much time on my hands to help it thrive.

Pairing: Oliver Thredson/Lana Winters.

 

 

  

Soft, weary brown eyes stared into the dark, brooding pair across the office while weighing the fact that without aid, there would be no safe means of getting out of this room and escape the reward of unimaginable pain if caught. Originally Lana had hoped to get in and out of the office while the asylum’s security was distracted during dinner, but it appeared they were making their rounds much sooner than usual. When the time came, she always expected this would be difficult, but not impossible.

Until now….

She hadn’t anticipated that the one heinous obstacle forever standing in her way was loose again until Abigail arrived tonight. But if there was anything she were sure of, it was that she knew Oliver was to blame for what was happening right now in the halls outside this office. After his last antics of hiding away in her cell, the staff was probably trying to keep a keen eye on him and must have caught wind that he was missing from dinner downstairs. Now in this dark Administrators office, both inmates stood opposite each other while security was literally crawling along the halls outside. They were trapped in an unavoidable impasse where one was desperately seeking to finally escape from this hell while the other had found home just as long as they were together. 

“Why are you doing this, Oliver?” Lana queried in a quiet voice and watched his extended hand drop at his side after her reluctance to take it. For a second, she wondered if he was perhaps crazier than she ever imagined if he had any inkling that she would.

“Under normal circumstances, I find your customary doses of ambition to be quite exhausting frankly, but from what I’ve gathered during your conversation with that little cohort of yours downstairs… I want in.” he responded coolly and gave her a slight smile. “Anywhere is better than here and if you shutting this place down will get me transferred, I’ll do whatever it takes. But we need to get moving before it’s too late.”

Lana shook her head with a snide smile, “For the record, Oliver, I could care less what happens to you in the future once this place is closed down; just as long as you’re behind someone’s bars and I’m out of here for good. But right now, there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell I’ll set foot outside this office with you.”

“ _IF_ you get out… But you’re not thinking rationally.” he whispered and after pressing a finger to his lips as a gesture for her to be quiet, he carefully cracked the door behind him so she could hear the sounds of the security guards footsteps and jingling keys before carefully reclosing it. “You won’t even make it down the hall without some help and you know it....”

Lana shook her head quickly and held the precious manila folder to her chest. A soft sigh escaped him at her reluctance to come to an agreement in coming with him and he glanced at the clock hanging high on the wall encased in metal wire.

_7:27 p.m._

It was almost thirty minutes before lock down which meant someone was looking for them, most importantly him. His eyes drifted back to Lana as she clutched the folder and he suddenly realized what was holding her up and he frowned, his eyebrows crinkling as he looked at her suspiciously, “Oh I see… So we’re back to pretending this is still _your_ story.”

He could tell by just looking at her that her mind was racing with the fire and determination that boiled inside her like when he’d overheard her talking about her plans for the story outside of the asylum that day while waiting eagerly for Kit Walker’s arrival. When she wanted something, she would do everything in her power to get it which is why he never had doubts that she could have brought this place down a long time ago, but at the time he needed her to serve a much greater purpose.

"I hate to break it to you, Oliver, but your twisted little back story is small piece of the larger picture going on around here...” she challenged. “The nerve of you trying to make this all about you…."

"But isn't it, Lana?” he asked honestly.

"The public already knows you’re a monster, Oliver, and you’re more pathetic than I ever gave you credit for if you think getting my story out will somehow strengthen whatever sick legacy you've been trying to create all this time. This is _my_ story of every disgusting thing this place _and_ you have ever done to me.” she whispered, the pent up accusations ready to ooze from her tongue with the poison that had been building inside her all this time. “Most of this is your fault..."

Looking down at his white tennis shoes, Oliver shook his head slowly. "Your ignorance is unmatched. You seem to ignore one very important thing about your story… You wouldn’t have that damned story if it wasn’t for me. And let me just remind you that everything that's ever happened to you was self inflicted, Lana.”

“ _Don’t_!” she whispered angrily, the heat rushing to her face. Time was running out and she wasn’t in the mood for his mind games. Stepping around Sister Eunice’s desk, her shoulders squared and her fists balled at her side she added, “ _Stop_ trying to put me on your goddamn couch.”

“ _You_ snuck in here, remember? _You_ wanted to know what made me this way and how my mind works. And I gave you that. But once you got in… you wanted out." he whispered calmly, his eyes wandering over her challenging form with mild amusement and annoyance.

And for a second, Oliver’s face softened and he averted his eyes glazed with unshed tears as he reflected upon the hurt and regret within him in remembrance of the way she’d led him on so many times in his basement by pretending to understand him. In the beginning he had his doubts about her until she finally proved that he'd found the one to make his life complete.

He had done everything for her… Risking his job to get her out, telling her his innermost secrets to lift the weight from his shoulders for relief of his lifelong torment, and even lowering himself to practice his ability to share intimacy on the cadaver of her old lover in order to sate his desire to be as close to her as possible. But once she knew the truth about him, everything changed and when she disappeared, he was left feeling used and abused. Now, after everything has gone to shit, here they are back at square one except now it was worse than they started out and were locked in the asylum together, lost to the system with a son neither of them would ever see.

"Your level of abuse knows no bounds….” she responded and when she shot him an icy stare his eyes flashed and he looked back at her as if he had been somewhere else.

“Just because we ignore the facts, it doesn’t mean they’ll cease to exist.” Oliver responded exasperatedly at her blindness. “Truth be told, people want to know what makes me tick because knowing how I work helps them to understand how they work and recognize what’s already inside them all along. It’s the most primitive form of self acceptance.”

The white flash of a flashlight from the hallway flickered through the textured glass of the office door, sending Oliver sliding to the side and away from of the glass while Lana scurried to duck behind the desk. They both waited silently in the slight darkness of the office, Oliver watching from his position as the moving light of the security guard passed the door and faded down the hallway outside. Lana remained where she was and finally let out a heavy exhale that the door never opened. Had someone come in to spot the asylum’s most dangerous inmate in a secluded room with one of his victims, the various forms of punishment for putting herself in harm’s way and sneaking into the office turned her stomach.

“So… What’s it going to be?” Lana heard and her head darted up to see Oliver leaning over the desktop she was hiding behind and peering down at her little huddled form on the floor.  

Lana scooted back in a frenzied motion to see him so close, bumping into the wooden chair behind the desk, her white shoes squeaking over the floor in haste to put some distance between them. He didn’t move from his perch however and just propped his head up on an elbow, continuing to look down at her while her sanity hung in the balance. But Lana held his gaze, her bottom lip trembling as she swore she could see the child like amusement playing in his dark eyes and it’s in moments like this that she feared him the most. The adolescent persona he kept hidden was worse than the adult guise he wore as a cover and was very much like that of any young child who had no concept of right and wrong that could and _would_ do anything to her that he pleased. For a brief moment, she wondered if he would lie and lead her into another trap, but deep inside she knew somehow that with his experience, he was her only ticket out of here and after a long pause, Lana finally took a deep breath. Extending her hand to him slowly, trembling as it went and she suddenly felt like a little hamster placed into a child’s hands, just waiting to be crushed.

The warm touch of his fingers slid along her wrist and she startled slightly, gripping the folder with her name on it to her chest that served as her lifeline so tightly she thought she might tear it in two as he carefully pulled her up from the floor. To her shock, his touch was gentle unlike the usual abrasive mannerism he used to handle her.

Lana didn’t move right away, but her gaze averted as he rose to full height. His fingers curled gently around the slender bones of her wrist and to his satisfaction, she didn't pull away when he ever so gently guided her in front of him. She kept her eyes downcast and he let his eyes wander over her in the dim light of dusk creeping in through the small windows while he let the doctor in him take over and secretly feel the escalation of her pulse under his fingertips.

Buckling her fear as far in the backseat as possible, he saw her nod in agreement. A small smile spread over his face and he whispered, "Good."

Moving toward the door with her in tow, Lana’s heart thundered in her ears as Oliver stuck his head out into the hall, looking back and forth to confirm it was clear.

“If this is going to work, you have to do as I specifically tell you. None of your spirited bullshit or we’ll both end up in some dark hole and this will be the last time you’ll ever see that folder again…” he whispered in a stern tone. “Do you understand?”

“Alright…” she responded after a long moment, her voice soft and resigned.

Keeping her close behind him, Oliver slid out of the door and quickly made his way to the end of the hall, his steps light with a practiced stealth as Lana trailed behind him quickly in effort to keep up with his longer gait. Peering around the corner, he took in his surroundings and witnessed a guard at the end of the hall disappear around another corner. Behind him, Lana heard the delicate steps of tapping heels that she’d come to recognize as none other than Sister Eunice possibly heading this way. Oliver hadn’t moved however and from the sound of it, Sister Eunice was getting close… Much too close and Lana struggled to listen to the heels of Sister Eunice growing closer behind them over the drum of her pounding heart beat while Oliver watched the pattern of security down the adjacent hall.

From every direction, it seemed as if the tapping of heels and the heavy stamp of leather boots echoed louder and louder as if the brick walls breathed the sounds around them, amplifying it.

_Tap, tap, tap…._

_Bump, Bump, Bump…_

Before long, it had become too much with the possibility of getting caught with these documents and being so close in Oliver’s proximity and suddenly something in Lana snapped. Her wrist was snatched from Oliver’s grasp.

“I-I can’t do this… I can’t.” she blurted under her breath. “I’ll find my own way!”

Oliver felt her wrist slip and he turned, grabbing her arm before she was out of reach and pressed her up against the wall despite her resistance.

“Stop!” he whispered harshly, his expression and the firm set of his eyebrows steeling her into place. “Your panicking is will get us both caught.”

Still Lana thrashed about as the footsteps grew closer and the manila folder slipped to the floor with a loud plap, the papers falling out and scattering loudly around both inmates’ feet.

"Who's there?" called out a gruff voice and they froze until the sound of footsteps hurried in their direction.

Thinking quickly, he knew the Administrators hall was connected to the resident’s wing and he slid across the to the nearest door. With a quick twist of the knob, he ducked inside one of the staff’s bedrooms and Lana pulled against him desperately, her shoes sliding along the floor to go back for the documents laying over the floor as the footsteps closed but it was too late and Oliver dragged her inside. Before she could find a hiding spot, an arm wound around her waist, pulling her into a dark corner next to a tall, wooden dresser adjacent the door to conceal their position. A small panicked sound escaped Lana’s throat and a large hand clamped over her mouth just as the door to the office swung open, flooding the other half of the room with the white light of a flashlight.

Huddled against one another, they both waited in awkward silence after finding themselves staring at their reflection in a full body mirror directly across from them that was propped up against the wall. Lana stared wide eyed, her chest heaving at the terrifyingly triggering image blaring back at her in the mirror. Her smaller body stood in front, her back flush against Oliver’s front while wrapped tightly in his arms and his hand clasped tightly over her mouth. With only his brooding face mostly visible in the gradual darkness, his taller form stood behind her appearing almost ghostly as if he’d emerged from the shadows to reclaim her.

The flashlight shone around the bedroom several times before whomever it was eventually disappeared and the door shut. Oliver stole a peek at the dimly lit room. He knew there were only three resident bedrooms, two were already occupied by either The Monsignor Timothy Howard Sister Mary Eunice so undoubtedly this was most likely Sister Jude’s old bedroom judging by the apparent lack of use and the untouched bed not far from the door. Lana jerked in his grasp, but he didn’t release her just yet and together they listened as the sound of footsteps rushed passed the door until they faded out.

“I think we should stay here for now...” Oliver said and paused, looking down at the top of Lana’s head as the sensation of wet warmth cascaded down his fingers currently clamped over her mouth and he discovered they were her tears.

The moment he released her mouth, a strangled sob escaped her lips and he quickly turned her around, ready to berate her for falling apart and loosing the documents in the hall when this whole thing was her idea in the first place.  But he stopped when she went somewhat limp in his arms as she wept and with a sigh, he just let her settle to the floor in a crumpled, crying heap. Yes, what was probably their only opportunity was gone….

“No, no, shhh…” he whispered, crawling over and brushing her long brown hair out of her face as she began to sob desperately as the dream she was trying to obtain so passionately vaporized into the chilly, dank air around them. A small smile formed on his bow shaped lips and he added, “You know as well as I do that if this has happened then it was meant to be this way, but at least we won’t have to suffer in here alone... We still have each oth-”

Suddenly Lana lashed out, smacking him across the face and yet it lacked her usual bite behind it. Oliver stiffened, his eyes wide for a moment, his cheek aflame with heat to the area of his skin that now stung and he gave her a look of confusion and frustration as to why she continued to fight the inevitable despite the obvious.

“Don’t touch me!” she whimpered, her hands trembling and she brushed her own hair out of her face. “I have to go back….”

He grabbed her arm when she began to move, but she flailed in a tear filled fit of rage and shoved at his chest to keep him back, but he kept coming. Shoving her to the floor, Oliver grabbed her hands and pinned them to the floor at either side of her head, his fingers winding with hers as he stared down into her wet brown eyes. “You can’t go back and most likely the folder is gone by now anyway.”

Lana shut her eyes, her face turning away from him as tears streamed anew at the possible truth. “This is your fault… I hope you’re satisfied.” she sobbed. “You’ve got nothing left to lose and now neither do I. We’ve been at each other’s throats long enough. You may as well finish it.”

“Obviously if I wanted you dead, you would be.” Oliver responded in a low voice, his dark eyes trailing over her red face beneath him and he quickly ducked his head, sealing her lips with his and swallowing the gasp that escaped her throat. “Why can’t you see that?”

Ignoring his question, she wriggled slightly beneath him as his tongue slipped out, sliding along the softness of her lips in a silent request for entrance. His hands let hers go and as he quickly slid them up the bare skin of her thighs, her hands pushed at his in effort to remove them, but Oliver paid no attention. Slipping underneath the hem of her blue dress to tug down the band of her white panties, Lana’s eyes widened and suddenly turned over on her belly, breaking the kiss. Quickly she moved to crawl out from under him, feeling her panties pulled roughly down her legs in one sweep as she went, but a strong hand grasped her by the hip and another into the back of her dress and pulled her back to him. Before she could respond, he’d grasped her wrists and she felt the cloth of her panties wrapped tightly around her wrists in a knot to bind the joints together. Dragging her with him over the floor to kneel in front of him before the full length mirror by her arms, he turned her to face the mirror.

“You’ve _never_ given up so easily… Where’s that fire you boast around so proudly, huh?” Oliver almost growled into her ear as he glared at their reflection. “Like when you stood in my living room and held that gun to my face….”

“There’s not a day that goes by that I wish I’d killed you when I had the chance.” she whispered back heatedly.

“In that moment, I was thinking the same thing about you... But it’s pointless dwelling on the past. But… keeping pent up frustration isn’t healthy, however. Expressing emotion between us doesn’t always have to involve such violence.” he responded and Lana watched in the mirror as his arm came around from behind and shoved her dress all the way up, exposing her belly and breasts to the cool air.

Lana started as his arm tightened around her waist to hold her against his front. Her bare skin was exposed to his eyes and her wrists twisted behind her back in her panties-turned-cuffs. But he held fast and she looked on with wide eyes as his long thick fingers passed over her smooth pale skin. Her chest heaved as he brushed several times over a nipple at first and her hips shifted as those wandering fingers roamed down her belly to pass along the warm, damp triangle between her thighs.

Carefully the pads of his fingers slid along her folds until he’d found that tiny ball of highly concentrated nerves hidden within them. “Who needs a real handgun when you’ve already got a semiautomatic to release your frustration right here?”

Her mouth opened immediately to berate him for the audacity, but instead she grit her teeth as Oliver’s finger began to draw swirling circles into it. Eventually he slipped that long digit into the freshly wet passage hidden further down and his thumb replaced the spot his finger started with and together they caressed both those traitorously erogenous spots causing her back to arch.

In the mirror he could see her eyes screwed shut and her teeth bared but after a several minutes, her expression began to relax and her jaw went slack and all he could think about was the way the angry thoughts in her mind were melting into nothingness. He knew she wasn’t capable of controlling whether or not she came and the more his fingers curled inside of her, he also knew the best part was exactly how long he could keep this up. As his fingers alternated between fast and slow, he watched every little shudder that coursed through her and the thought alone was thrilling that right now he was more in control of her body than she was.

Lana’s head tilted back, her body sagging against his chest and her thighs began to tremble as pleasure pooled between her thighs like freshly heated chocolate being poured into a vat to smother the emotions settled deep in her stomach.

“Ngh… Oliver!” she breathed out and for a second he wondered if anyone outside had heard.

“Sshhhhh…. Just let it go for now, just be in the moment and forget.” he whispered, not so much for her, but for himself as well to shake off the lingering affirmation that neither of them would probably ever get out of this place now.

At the notion of someone coming in, he quickly unfastened his pants while his other hand kept her distracted; giving his own swelling erection some much needed room when suddenly a quiet rush of whimpers and sighs escaped her lips and he felt her walls squeeze his questing fingers tightly, signaling she was close. Immediately his busy hand withdrew and Lana’s thighs gave out causing her body to sag to the floor and lay on her side.

Her expression was somewhat stunned as the passage between her legs continued to clench and grasp in absence of his fingers despite her muddled inner thoughts screaming that she was slipping. As she lay next to him staring into the mirror while she tried to glue the shattered part of her that this place was constantly breaking, Oliver’s dark eyes raked over the soft flesh of her bottom and her pink folds now soaked and glistening in the aftermath of his handiwork. He knew that despite her thoughts, his actions left her confused and, most importantly, aching terribly between her thighs.

During the time he was in solitary, all he could think about was being close to her again and now that it was in his grasp once more, his mind swam feverishly like the high he’d often felt when under the inducing medication he was given while he sat in the dark, alone in that cell.

Releasing his straining member from his underwear, Oliver grasped her bound hands behind her back and hurriedly turned her over to her stomach. Making room between her thighs, he slid himself inside her slowly and a throaty sigh escaped his lips as that very same heat and pressure that surrounded his fingers just moments ago enveloped him completely. Pulling his own blue uniform shirt up to his chest, Oliver blanketed himself over her to feel the naked skin of his belly brush against the softness of her back.

Lana made a quiet sound almost inaudible to his ears as she felt his weight atop her and the sensation of being filled completely. His hips began to move, sparking the fire inside her again that hadn’t yet had a chance to cool. Thrusting slowly at first until he’d built a steady rhythm, she felt his face pressed against her jaw as heat rushed unbridled under his skin. His thick brows furrowed as her body jerked beneath him and he looked over with half lidded eyes into the mirror adjacent them to watch the whorl of expressions passing over her face. The curve of his exposed buttocks rocked against her own with each thrust, slow and deep to quick and shallow to keep her right on the edge. This was the only way he knew they both felt alive, this was where wanted her, and this was where he wanted to keep her.

Their skin grew slick with a thin sheen of sweat and Lana’s gasps and sighs filled his ears. He brushed her hair away from her face and whispered her name against her skin. When she didn’t respond to him, he set upon her like an unsatisfied animal. Pulling her up from the floor with him to her knees by her tied hands, he arched her back and drove into her, rolling his hips with a pace he was sure enough to make her thoughts strewn and messy and cause her mind to spin.

The air around them grew thick and she all but choked on his name as it fell from her lips. Suddenly her body stiffened, her walls clenching around him sporadically as he brutally pushed her over the edge, assaulting her body with wave after wave of sweet release. Straining muscles aching with use suddenly slowed and Lana felt the baritone of Oliver’s voice rumble through her back as he let out a deep and hollow groan followed by the sudden rush of warmth as he’d also found his release.

After a moment he released her, unbinding her hands and not bothering to sit up, she scooted slowly away from him as he rose from the floor. Lana glanced to her white panties lying on the floor next to her, the fabric now stretched to ruin and she looked up out of the side of her eye at the killer who refused to let her alone as he quietly worked to right his clothing as if this was just a part of the norm. Was it too late for her? In the torrent of fear, anger, hate, and longing for a life one of them wanted and the life the other was desperately seeking to escape, the lines had blurred just now and she idly wondered if him and this place had already taken her sanity and was now trying to steal her soul.

Turning to face her, Oliver straightened his posture and buttoned the last button of the blue collar of his uniform shirt. “There is no better release of pent up frustration and stress than a prescription of physical activity.” he said with a sigh and a small smile.

When he held out his hand to help her up, she shook her head and remained where she was. They’d lingered far too long anyway so deciding to leave her be for now, Oliver proceeded to the door. It wouldn’t do for them to be seen together and he poked his head out into the hall to see if it was clear.

Since he was alone again with nothing to prove what he’d been up to, he disappeared and moved quickly down the hall. Running his fingers through his hair and grasping the strands, his dark eyes searched the floor desperately for the folder she’d dropped. There was only a short amount of time before lock down. He rounded the corner to make sure it wasn’t missed and bumped into the small form of the red haired psych that he somehow knew would serve as the bane of every purpose he had left to hold onto. His brows furrowed in confusion as to why she was standing there watching him when her arm came from behind her back to hold up a manila folder before his eyes. With a suspicious look, she read the name on the sticker.

“ _Lana Winters_ … Looking for this?”

 

 

 

====To be continued====

 

 

  
A/N: Thank you for reading!  I hope it was enjoyed and there’s still more to come. :)


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